Trouble Has Wings
by HARPG0
Summary: Epilogue... Note: MaouRam and YuuRam. If shonen ai isn't your fav, that's okay! Please move on to the next story.
1. Chapter 1

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Trouble Has Wings

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**Author's Note**: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou. This is just for fun and no profit. Don't take anything seriously, okay?

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The sky was light grey, overcast—but without the threat of rain. It made the green grass practically glow underfoot, which went unnoticed by the lone figure whose black boots slammed into the ground with each step.

_Gotta make it!_

Hard breaths.

Muscles tight.

_Slow! I'm too slow._

Elbows pumping hard.

"There's a problem at the old well!" Logan yelled, running up to Wolfram who was in mid stride, heading in the direction of the training grounds where his personal guard was waiting for him in their practice uniforms. They were supposed to be reviewing their flame-throwing techniques using straw dummies and wooden horse mannequins because he had a feeling that the men were slacking off due to the coming summer holidays.

"Eh?" Wolfram turned to Logan Adler, the youngest and the newest member of his guard, with arms resting on his hips impatiently.

Logan gaped at his commanding officer.

The two of them had the same lithe build and handsome, almost boyish, features. However, Wolfram was blond and had piercing green eyes that spoke of strictness and discipline. Logan knew that his own watery blue-grey eyes spoke volumes, too. They said, "Oh, hell! He's mad at me again and this is my second day on the job." The sight of a highly annoyed Wolfram made him want to crawl out of his skin. But what added to the agony was the simple fact that the blond was so drop dead gorgeous most of the time, it made his heart beat quite a bit harder than it ordinarily would under the circumstances. But, the veteran guards had warned him (or maybe "teased him" would be a better way of describing it) over ale the previous night that falling in love with Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld was inevitable. They all did it. And it was fine. Nobody cared—not even their king, who was engaged to him.

Logan was slightly out of breath but managed to utter, "Uh…there seems to be… a problem at the well."

"Where the stable hands get the water for the horses?" Wolfram rolled his eyes in a disbelieving way.

"Yes sir! On my honor!"

Wolfram clicked his tongue at that. "I give you a simple task: Go tell the staff to bring buckets of water out here to put out the fires we are about to set." He leaned forward with the sexiest "I'm mad at you" frown crossing his face. Logan licked his dry lips. He was determined not to let himself unconsciously pucker back at the soft pink lips hovering before him, even if they were frowning and uttering words of complaint. A strand of Logan's mousy brown hair stuck to a corner of his mouth when a sudden gust of wind blew against them.

It tickled. He scratched his face nervously.

"Y-Yess…sir… It's just that I was passing by and then Miss Sangria started shouting for me to go get help and…"

"Wait! What?!" Wolfram's jaw dropped incredulously. He grabbed Logan by the shoulder and turned him back in the direction of the castle. "Come with me, damn it!" They began to run—their feet pounding on grass. Behind them, the other soldiers looked on in confusion. Should they join them or not? Then, floating on the wind, they could hear Wolfram shouting, "…And the next time you report someone in the castle screaming for help, you'd better, damn well, start that sentence off with that little nugget of information, soldier!"

Wolfram's private guards glanced at each other with purpose, and then followed at a dead run.

Long before they got to the old well, Wolfram and Logan could hear Sangria's screams of terror. They were the shrill, lingering kind that could scrape into your soul.

They rounded the corner of the castle and came upon the scene.

Sangria, three stable hands, and a castle guard in full uniform were being stared down by something that appeared to be a tall, shadowy apparition. Small clouds of dark smoke seemed to be floating lazily within its body with a deep, purplish drop shadow under the form which linked it to the quickly withering grass beneath.

"Stay back," Wolfram growled as he shoved Logan away.

The new recruit did as he was commanded. He fought hard to ignore the sore ego that he was now sporting. Being shoved away and treated like a total green horn on his second day sucked royally.

As the blond trudged forward with a hard look in his green eyes, Logan followed dutifully, determined to be of some use to him and to prove himself worthy. He still had another shot at this.

"Sir," Logan said, turning to look in the direction of his comrades, "the others are coming."

"Fine. Until then, I'll deal with this," the blond said, drawing his sword from its sheath with a smooth, metallic sound. Logan did the same.

The shadow cocked its head to one side and looked at the duo. Then, it regarded Wolfram almost thoughtfully, and…laughed. It was a deep, warbled laugh that mocked Wolfram. Something that could easily be mistaken for glowing blue eyes narrowed into horizontal slits with each chuckle. In the meantime, the shadow's initial audience had backed up much further—into the castle wall.

Logan couldn't understand why they didn't just scamper off like scared rabbits…until the sensed the barriers.

"Lord von Bielefeld?"

"Not now," Wolfram grumbled, not taking his eyes off the thing before him.

Logan bit his lower lip and then decided that his commanding officer would be pissed at him anyway. So, just go ahead on with it. "Barriers."

"What?" Wolfram growled.

"Sangria and the others…are being held with a barrier."

"I got it now," Wolfram breathed and started to edge his way more to the left. "Remember your training on dealing with the enemy's barriers?"

"Yes sir!" Logan said with a smile.

The stranger turned back to the little group, hovered over to Sangria and muttered something to her in a deep, growlish tone.

She covered her face with her hands.

"Everyone," Wolfram said loudly to the hostages, "get ready!" He eyed the castle guard, who returned it with a nod. "You know what to do."

They all understood what that meant. And upon the next step, Logan dropped down to one knee and placed both palms on the ground. He shook it hard—creating an earthquake that rattled everything. The shadow looked surprised, lost its concentration and the three stable hands ran to the left when the thin, glass-like barrier broke. Sangria found herself being swept up (and toted away bridal style) by the castle guard. She gripped him hard around the neck as they ran off.

Wolfram faced the hazy figure. The warbling laugh returned. Inside the creature, the lazy clouds began to thicken and spiral inward. It folded and remolded its body into a new shape—a shadow-man.

_It can change its form_! Wolfram thought and gripped his sword tighter than before.

The blond faced the intruder. Behind him, his personal guards, including Logan on the end, positioned themselves in an arc. There was no way this man, this _thing_, was going to escape from Blood Pledge Castle.

The man placed his palms together as in prayer, pulled his hands apart and spat a yellow spark into it. Instantly, there was a flame, not unlike that of a campfire, blazing hard and shooting up little wisps of flame.

"Fire wielder!" Wolfram barked at his men without taking his eyes off the stranger.

Immediately, the soldiers put their swords back into their scabbards and began to chant. Most of Wolfram's men were skilled with fire magic. But a few, including Logan, were exceptionally good with earth magic and barriers.

The shadow man pressed the flame between his palms into ball the size of one of Yuuri's baseballs—which made Wolfram worry that he couldn't deal with it. He had a hard enough time with the silly white ones Yuuri tossed around with Conrad. A fire version could cause considerably more damage if he was distracted. Then, he blinked at these thoughts. Why was he so rattled? He could handle fire. He was, after all, a fire wielder himself.

The shadow man laughed at him.

_I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say this guy is in my head._

"What is…?!" Yuuri shouted, coming around the corner with the soldier who had rescued Sangria just minutes before. He had a huge, red lipstick mark on his cheek. Conrad followed, too, as did Gwendal who felt the "shock" of an earth wielder causing trouble near the castle. And, in his opinion, there had better be a damn good explanation for that. Then, he blinked at the stranger. Yes, there probably was a good reason after all.

The shadow-man turned to Yuuri and took a step…but it was a cautious one, almost indecisive. Then, he took a step backwards—once again, trying to make up his mind what to do.

"Look, let's just have everyone calm down," Yuuri said with his hands in the air to appease the crowd.

Wolfram's private guard looked at each other awkwardly. The fire wielders had small fireballs rotating in their hands. Logan and the others had shields up, protecting themselves and their comrades—with the exception of Wolfram, who insisted that he didn't need a barrier and could protect himself.

"We don't need to fight," Yuuri said, approaching the direction of the shadow-man with Conrad by his side looking incredibly worried.

"I think we should stop here, Heika," Conrad murmured quietly.

"That's 'Yuuri.'"

"Of course," Conrad said, feeling very nervous—his eyes glued on the unwanted visitor. He'd never seen such a person before, and hoped that he would never again.

"So, let's not kill…it? _Him_?" Yuuri turned his eyes over to the figure. "Can you understand me?"

The shadow-man's form was still hovering above the ground with a deep glow under his feet, making the grass seem purple. From head to toe, his body began emitting a pulsing, deep black glow.

The sight made everyone take a step back, and Yuuri, a bit rattled himself, took the silence as a "no." "Well, we have scholars here at the castle. Maybe, just maybe… one of them can understand who you are and what you want."

"Sire," Gwendal said tartly from where he was standing behind Conrad, "you certainly can't expect us to bring a dark specter into the castle?!"

"Ummm…actually, I can…" He put his hand behind his head and laughed a little at himself. "Besides, you said that people think the castle is haunted anyway. So, what's one more?" He laughed unconvincingly.

The dark specter laughed, too. But it was a haughty, menacing laugh that spoke of untapped power and aggression. Conrad put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He narrowed his eyes.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram bellowed in his classic tone. "I can't believe you, wimp!"

"You really should learn to trust, Wolfram," Yuuri said cheerfully. Maybe, if he was cheerful, everyone else would buy into it and relax a bit, too. Well, that's how things were in Japan. "If you give people a chance, you'll be surprised."

The shadow-man watched Wolfram's face. It was angry, flushed, disbelieving… His king, his accidental fiancé, and not so secret crush, had just undermined his authority in front of his men. The blond bit his lower lip in frustration. Yuuri had no understanding of just how much work he'd put into his career, rising up in the ranks the legitimate way—with no special favors from his brothers—and the long nights he'd put in to make it this far to finally get a job where he could train soldiers to be the best, the strongest fighters ever. Wolfram knew that he was more than a commander, he was a mentor.

The shadow-man looked between Wolfram and Yuuri. He turned back to Wolfram and regarded him again.

Wolfram raised his chin a little in defiance. There was no way he would allow himself to be stared down by this strange creature before him.

"Be nice, Wolfram," Yuuri said, copying his mother's famous "play nice" voice that she always used with her sons when they were little.

Yuuri saw Wolfram flash him an injured look.

_I suppose I've hurt him again,_ the double black thought sadly.

Then the shadow-man grabbed Wolfram by the wrist and pulled him in.

How he could move that fast and grab the blond, no body knew. Wolfram screamed and felt his helpless body being dragged into a ring of purple fire. Before he knew it, he was trapped with the shadow-man at the center of it. Wolfram tried to claw the creature away, but there was nothing to hold onto—only a thick, gaseous atmosphere that came back wet and dripping with an ozone smell.

All of the men gasped, and Logan ran forward with a shield up and his sword at the ready in his right hand.

The young man struck the barrier, received an electric shock, and fell to the ground senseless.

"Damn!" Gwendal said, circling around and grabbing Logan by the arm. He understood what the foolish earth wielder had done, sympathized with him, and even admired him—for that was his own element in wielding. But Logan was young and acted without orders. Gwendal, now on his knees and remembering his first aid training from the battlefield, poured healing magic into the soldier.

Looking up, the administrator saw Yuuri. He was approaching the purple barrier with his hair growing long, down to his shoulders. His shoulders were widening, eyes becoming darker with slits for pupils, blue ribbons of energy danced around the handsome frame, and the wind around them was picking up. Thunderclouds gathered in the already grey sky. Lightning flashed.

"Release him," a deep and dramatic voice said among the gale that was now blowing.

"Maou Heika!" Wolfram's private guard all breathed at once. They'd seen this a few times at the castle and were impressed with the sheer power that Yuuri had.

"As the 27th Maou of Shin Makoku, I, Shibuya Yuri, will not tolerate the disruption you have caused this day. You were given the opportunity to come to this place peacefully, which is more than many of our enemies have been granted in the past. And death is not a judgment that I will assign lightly. But I will do it. So, I say it again…heed my words. You will release him unharmed," Maou Heika ordered.

Inside the purple barrier, black bands of energy swirled and ripped at the blue uniform. Wolfram threw his head back and screamed. He could feel himself being torn to pieces. The shadow-man pulled Wolfram's unwilling body against him and seemed to whisper something in his ear. Still in great pain, the blond shook his head to clear it, mind becoming fuzzy. He tried to push the man away only to have himself brought back up against the stranger. More words passed between them. This time, there was something there. Breathing hard, Wolfram was visibly crying but no longer struggling. The shadow-man's left arm held him up and the right hand cradled the head. The blond, whose hair was being blown by the wind, seemed to sob an answer to the shadow-man.

Maou Heika stared back incredulously, his eyes wide and teeth gnashed. "THEN, ACCEPT YOUR DEATH AS MY JUDGMENT!"

"Death?!" the soldiers all gasped at once.

"He's really gonna do it?" someone muttered.

"Heika?!" Conrad said, attempting to stand between the infuriated maou and his baby

brother. "Wolfram's in there…"

"How could anyone…?!" Gwendal agreed from the king's shoulder in a tone aggressive and protective.

But the Maou Heika wasn't looking at either one of them. He was watching Wolfram's face—pale, sobbing, helpless.

The barrier pulsed one last time, like a thin black soap bubble, and broke.

Wolfram's body fell on the grass.

* * *

Wolfram's body was now in the infirmary with Gisela holding his hand and gently pouring healing magic into him. She could hear the angry voices and mutterings going on the other side of the door that connected her office to the infirmary. Gisela frowned in frustration.

Not even thirty minutes ago, Conrad had burst into her office with Wolfram's body cradled in his arms like a sleeping child. Then, more people arrived behind him: Gwendal, who had an unconscious guard in his arms, other soldiers from Wolfram's private guard trying to squeeze in the door frame, and, last but not surprisingly least, Yuuri. The noise level quickly reached to an unbelievable pitch—everyone shouting and demanding things at once. It was impossible to sift through it all.

Gisela directed Conrad and Gwendal to enter through a side door so that they could place her patients in the infirmary. Conrad stayed behind with Gwendal turning back, almost immediately, and taking charge of the situation. He barked over the din and stood in front of them in the most imposing manner possible. Even Yuuri took nervous steps as he slipped by and entered the room to be with Wolfram and Conrad.

Luckily, Gwendal made quick work of things. Most of them had cleared off after he gave the word to Wolfram's guard that the whole lot of them didn't need to stand by. But, after acknowledging the pleading looks from the slowly retreating men, Gwendal decided that he would allow two of the guards to remain in the hallway if they wished to volunteer. Every single one of them did. And Gwendal narrowed it down to the two highest ranking officers.

Minutes later, Logan's eyes opened. He turned his head wearily in the direction of Wolfram and Gisela. He watched as his commander's uniform was being removed and the body checked.

The room was empty with the exception of the three of them.

"Where…?" Logan asked, taking a deep breath.

Gisela broke into a wide smile at him. "I knew that you'd just been knocked out. How do you feel?"

The young soldier grumbled and sat up. "Like something that came out of the end of a bear-bee."

Then, his eyes fell on Wolfram's body. The face was beautiful—thick lashes against pale cheeks. The youngest soldier tensed up. "How is he?" Logan asked, his voice cracked a little when he said it which got him a knowing smile from the healer.

_Another one is in love with Lord __von Bielefeld, hmmm?_

But then her smile faltered a little. "I'm keeping him here for examination."

Logan worried his lower lip with his teeth, biting almost too hard. "Then, can I stay?"

"I think you need to go back to your room and rest."

Logan folded his arms against his chest and muttered, "You're asking a sick man to go back to his room."

She shook her head "no" and the green locks floated back against her cheeks. "I'm asking a good and loyal guard to return to his room…" she said sweetly, "before I start yelling and issuing orders." She pulled out her army helmet and plopped it on her head. She narrowed her eyes. The girl meant business.

Logan's eyes were wide at that.

"You wouldn't dare! Lord von Bielefeld is unwell!" he pointed to the opposite bed.

"Care to find out?"

Gisela chuckled at the memory a little. But, now that Logan was gone, the room seemed too quiet and almost lonely. She knew that yelling at the soldier in front of Wolfram would have been perfectly fine because the blond was out cold. He'd wake up when he felt like it.

Mutterings in the office.

Gisela rolled her eyes at that, thankful that she didn't have any other patients today. Right now, inside her office, Gwendal, Yuuri, and Conrad were having a "high volume" discussion of their own. Well, mostly it sounded like Gwendal with Yuuri defending himself and Conrad stepping in when necessary.

More shouts thinly veiled by the wall. Gisela rested her chin in her palm and studied the rectangular room filled with beds. One of the two doors in the infirmary opened to her office. The other opened into the hallway. No matter what Gissela did, she knew that she'd have someone outside the door listening or arguing. At least, she knew better than to create a spectacle that would be "rumor fuel" for the castle. But, at the same time, she wondered why she was the only one with common sense.

The green haired woman tried to close her eyes and focus on what she was doing. Mostly, it was healing the cuts and scrapes all over Wolfram's body so that they wouldn't scar. Using her magic, she couldn't make out any other physical injuries. But, something was definitely wrong with Wolfram. Deep down, she knew it. There was something—some kind of force—that seemed to echo back at her when she applied her magic deeper than skin level. It was more than troubling. It was… _No! I will never be afraid of one of my patients_, she thought. _He needs me!_ The healer set her jaw and a more determined look came to her face. She'd figure this one out. Maybe, when she was done, she'd consult her father or some of the more advanced medical magic texts for advice.

Through the wall, a muffled voice from her office, "obviously Gwendal"she murmured, shook her from her thoughts. He was shouting, "and exactly what was the Maou Heika going to do to that…that _thing_…with Wolfram in its grip?!" Yuuri gave back a reply, but it was impossible to make out more than the tone.

Some part of her was glad, though.

She focused again, applied magic, and…there it was again. The feeling. The darkness and a sensation like velvet draped on her.

Gisela gasped and jerked back.

She blinked down at Wolfram.

_Knock. Knock._

"Eh?" Gisela said, trying to focus. "S-Sorry?"

Murata Ken, The Great Sage, poked his head in the door. "I heard there was a party going on and wanted to join. So, where's the others?" He gave her a mysterious smile, but his eyes lost their sparkle when he looked at Wolfram. Murata caught himself and forced back on his pleasant mask. Gisela saw none of it, still too rattled from her last healing attempt, and simply motioned a finger at the other door.

Murata skipped through the infirmary, watching Wolfram's face out of the corner of his eye, and opened the door to Gisela's office.

He shut the door behind him.

* * *

An hour of much quieter chatting passed and the door to Gisela's office rattled and then opened.

"Can we come in?" Yuuri asked cautiously.

Gisela nodded to him, looking worried with her mouth being a single, thin line. Yuuri glanced at them both, feeling dread creeping in.

Wolfram was wearing a short sleeved, white hospital gown that had a bright sheen to it. He was lying on his back with his porcelain face turned to the right side. His lips were a pale peach, almost colorless, as were his hands with the exception that the fingernails had turned an odd, purplish color.

Yuuri approached and took Wolfram's narrow, callused hand in his. He stroked it softly and looked down at the nails. "What could do…this?"

"I don't have an answer," she said as she glanced over to Conrad, Gwendal, and Murata. They had entered the room, too, and stood quietly. Murata's glasses held a shine to them that blocked any view of his eyes. But Gisela felt that the sage was taking everything in—studying the scene in great detail. Maybe, he could come up with some answers.

"I'm just glad that Mother is off on one of her free love cruises," Gwendal muttered, disguising his worry with anger. His hands were balled into fists at his side.

"I agree," Conrad said with a small nod.

Yuuri looked down at Wolfram's face again. His blond hair had lost its brightness. It was a dirty blond, dull--like a piece of jewelry that needed polish. "What happened to his…?" Yuuri rolled a strand of blond hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't know."

"Why doesn't he wake up?" Yuuri asked.

Gisela shook her head. "I don't know that, either. I healed the cuts. And they weren't that bad to begin with. Other than the fingernails, the rest of him appears fine." She tucked a strand of green hair behind her ear. "But, there is something..."

"What is it?" Conrad asked, concern etching itself back onto his face.

Wolfram took a sharp breath, almost gasping for air.

"Wolfram?!" Yuuri said, holding onto the hand tighter.

The blond figure in the bed shook its head, as though fighting off a bad dream. Then a moan escaped him and he rolled onto his side in a fetal position, facing Yuuri.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, feeling a bit of relief that his brother was gaining consciousness, even if it was uncomfortable.

The blond's breathing slowed and he collapsed in the bed again with another moan.

"You'll be fine," Yuuri said, brushing blond hair away from Wolfram's face. The face was dampening with sweat.

The double black felt Wolfram letting go of his hand.

Another hard breath.

Using one hand on the mattress, Wolfram forced his body into a sitting position, his eyes closed. He blinked for a second and then placed his hands over his eyes. He took a breath that sounded more like a sob.

"It's okay, Wolfram," Yuuri said, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his fiancé's back in little circles. "We're just glad that you're waking up."

"Hn…" The blond lowered his head almost drunkenly and ran his shaking fingers through his hair.

"It will be fine," Yuuri soothed.

Conrad and Gwendal looked at each other with a bit of relief. Gisela found a small smile coming to her. Murata watched Yuuri stroke Wolfram's back and listened to him utter quiet words of comfort.

Wolfram tilted his head towards the ceiling, let his hands fall into his lap, and opened his eyes—blood red eyes.

Sharp fangs forced their way out of his mouth.

Yuuri felt a hand grasp his throat and press with an unbelievable pressure. He cringed.

"Killing me is no longer an option," he rasped with a deep, otherworldly venom. "Tell that to the spirit inside of you before I squeeze harder."

"Wolf-ram?" Yuuri choked out, onyx eyes watering.

There was a slight hesitation and Wolfram's eyes began to fill with tears. Then, the blond shook his head "no." In that moment, the others made a move to separate them.

Red eyes turned up, burning hot and Wolfram's voice hissed, "Wanna chance it?"

Yuuri, much to his dismay, found himself being pulled into Wolfram's lap. The hospital bed dipped slightly with the weight of the two of them so close together. One hand was still around Yuuri's throat, the other was around his waist. Yuuri felt the warmth and the close contact against his back and wasn't sure if his red face was due to being held closely or being held captive.

Murata left the corner of the room. He didn't seem that surprised anymore. He took three steps forward with all the confidence of a great sage and readjusted the glasses on his face. And, when he spoke, everyone turned. "You can stop looking so terrified," Murata said to Wolfram. "We won't hurt you. We promise."

Wolfram chuckled darkly into Yuuri's shoulder, resting his head there. Yuuri blushed harder.

This _was_ Wolfram…and _not_ Wolfram. His heart was confused.

The blond lifted his head. Red eyes flashed in Yuuri's direction. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Afraid I'll bite you?"

"N-No," Yuuri said with more bravery than he really felt, "I'm just worried about Wolfram." He tried to calm himself down, but he could feel his heart going into overdrive and the rush of blood in his ears.

"Of course," Wolfram said sarcastically, not believing a word of it.

"What our maou is telling you is, in fact, the truth," Murata said as he gave Wolfram a meaningful look. "The person you've possessed… and our king… just happen to be…"

"Engaged," Wolfram interrupted.

"Exactly," Murata said. He smirked a little. This situation was becoming clearer and clearer.

The blond leaned his chin on Yuuri's shoulder and felt a shiver coming from him. It didn't matter, though. "I don't acknowledge the engagement."

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Murata, gaped.

"And, since your maou doesn't, either…" Wolfram's voice trailed off.

A puff of warm air tickled Yuuri's neck. He shivered again.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you believe or disbelieve," Gwendal huffed. He was getting tired of this pretty quickly.

"Well, _you should_," the red-eyed Wolfram said and allowed one fang to hang out of his mouth. He stroked Yuuri's chest with his hand—purple nails glistening slightly. "You are…" Then he thought about it. "I believe you are Wolfram's brother…are you not?"

Gwendal clamped his mouth shut and felt a desperate need to knit something cute and adorable for Greta.

"Your name is Gwendal, and, when you were very young, you promised Wolfram that you would make sure he was happy…always."

Gwendal folded his arms against his chest defensively.

"So, what happened?" Wolfram's face made a strange smile—slightly angry but, at the same time, tinged with mirth. For a brief second, it didn't even look like Wolfram at all. Then, his face relaxed into something recognizable. "How could you allow Wolfram to be engaged to…this?" The double black found himself shaken like a rag doll.

Wolfram's head swiveled a little and looked at Conrad. "You are called…'Little Big Brother.' Isn't that right?"

Conrad's jaw dropped. He felt himself give a slight nod.

"Well, that's what Wolfram's heart calls you…" There was an awkward shrug that followed, as the eyes seemed to be searching—remembering—the way a student would while taking a final exam. "But he's been fighting and bickering with you, all one sided…which is strange…for decades now." With a slight shake of a blond head he added, "Wolfram doesn't know how to stop."

Yuuri made a slight wiggle to get more comfortable. And Wolfram's leg shifted just enough so that it wasn't possible.

"Wuss" was floated in his ear.

"That's 'wimp,'" Yuuri corrected, before he realized what he was saying and he cringed.

The blond head turned back to Conrad. "You're in such a bad position," Wolfram's voice said vaguely, losing a great deal of its animalistic rumblings and undertones. It almost sounded normal, with the exception of a growling inhale that would come to him. "You're caught between your monarch and your brother…" Red eyes looked at Conrad dimly. "I don't envy you."

He turned to the green haired woman. "Wolfram knows you as Gisela…the healer…" Wolfram's mouth formed a slight smile at that. "Thank you for healing us."

She nodded back.

"You knew something was different…inside Wolfram…and you didn't try to hurt me." A small fang poked out. "I appreciate it."

Murata straightened up a little and walked a few more paces with his hands behind his back towards the bed. "What we'd _appreciate_ is you releasing our maou from your grip and leaving this body…as soon as possible."

A typical Wolfram snort was the answer to that followed by the words "make me."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"WHAT?!" Gwendal roared.

It echoed painfully in the infirmary. Yuuri wanted to cover his ears, but Wolfram's grip had him good and tight around the waist and throat.

Gisela, a bit startled, took a step back and accidentally bumped into Murata, who enjoyed her brushing up against him—a little too much. His glasses gleamed. The green haired healer didn't notice what she'd just done because the angry administrator had her full attention with his menacing looks and proximity to the spirit who had Yuuri held captive in his lap. Without thinking, Gisela did it again—eyes transfixed on Gwendal. The Mazoku snarled and she brushed up against Murata. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, the sage wondered if he could snuggle her and get away with it. Wrapping one arm around small shoulders protectively, Murata held her close. It almost worked, too. Then he felt Gisela pinch his side to get him to let go. She waved a "you're a naughty boy" finger and he shrugged.

"I said 'LEAVE!" Gwendal shouted again.

"And I said 'make me'," the spirit in the hospital bed taunted back in a very Wolframish voice. Blood red eyes were dancing as he thumbed his nose over Yuuri's shoulder.

Yuuri stammered, "I-I don't think…"

"We told you to leave! Get out of Wolfram!" Gwendal yelled, even closer to the hospital bed now. Yuuri cringed and Wolfram's body sat up like a cobra ready to spit venom.

"No," the spirit said, tilting his head up in defiance. The trademark "Wolfram pout" was there. It was cute. It was _very_ cute. The administrator's eye twitched_. _

It almost worked, but the throaty growl that quickly followed broke the spell. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "You'll do it, or I'll…!" Gwendal leaned forward, the veins in his neck sticking out like tree roots.

"Kiss my ass," the voice hissed. Red eyes danced.

Yuuri felt his face getting hot with embarrassment. To his knowledge, no one, but no one, ever said such a thing to Lord Gwendal von Voltaire—and lived.

Yuuri said cautiously, "W-Well, technically, you're telling him to kiss Wolfram's…"

The ground started to shake. The first thing that flashed through Yuuri's mind was him being a little child with a bright yellow Hanshin Tigers baseball cap on while going to the baseball field to pretend that he was a major league player when a small earthquake hit and he fell on his butt hard. Only, he wasn't a child now. There was no yellow hat. And he had a very angry, very possessed fiancé using him as a human shield while the castle shook itself apart.

Murata, Conrad, and Gisela all fought hard to stay on their feet. But, it wasn't easy. They were being tossed about, bumping and sliding. Redfaced, Yuuri tried to fight down the new feelings that were coming to him. And one feeling in particular that he was getting from bouncing up and down in the bed in Wolfram's lap. Their bodies were warm, close, pressing. His heart was suddenly beating hard for a reason that, Yuuri acknowledged, vaguely involved the quake. Another shockwave hit. Dust and grime rained down in sandy little streams with a _shushing_ sound. His back was bumping against Wolfram's chest all over again. He decided it was all Gwendal's fault.

The metal framed beds rattled as did the medical instruments in the cabinets. The deep rumble made it hard to hear.

"I don't think any of this is necessary," Murata Ken said over the din, holding onto the foot of the bed for dear life while trying his best to add a friendly shrug to his words. He flashed Gwendal a serious glare and the man, thankfully, backed off.

The shaking stopped almost immediately.

"Let's start this all over, shall we?" the sage began in a tone that was reasonable, almost too reasonable for Yuuri's tastes. "Let's begin with names. You seem to know all of ours. So, what's your name?"

Wolfram's head tossed. His tarnished gold bangs fell away from his eyes. There was something there, Murata noticed. A look.

Wolfram's voice dropped in pitch and tone—seeming alien to the ears that heard it. "My name is TRA'VA."

"Tra…va?" Yuuri said, trying the name on for size.

"You mean '_Trouble_.' That's its name," Gwendal grumbled out loud.

There was a soft, warbled chuckle from behind Yuuri's left ear. Both arms now tightened themselves around Yuuri's waist. The double black took in a sharp breath at the contact.

"I'll accept the name 'Trouble.'"

"Tra'va," Murata continued, rolling his eyes inwardly, "can you at least tell us why you've…done this…to Lord von Bielefeld?

Another suspicious look. But, this one was solely directed at Murata, as though challenging him, questioning his veracity. "If I do, I want your word that I can leave this castle and continue on my way."

"What?" came the double black. "You can't take Wolfram with you!" Yuuri objected. He tried to flash an incredulous look over his shoulder only to feel Wolfram's arms clinching him tighter.

"Is anyone talking to you?" the spirit mouthed off, giving Yuuri another hard shake. His willowy body moved back and forth like a child's rag doll. The spirit briefly considered putting the maou in a headlock.

"Umm…well, he has a point," Murata said diplomatically. "We really need to keep our maou's fiancé."

"Fiancé?" It was followed by a "humph."

"_Seriously_," Murata said back.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence followed by a firm shake of the head "no." Yuuri felt sick inside. This was getting them nowhere. They might have to use force, somehow, to get rid of this "_person_" inside Wolfram. Maybe Günter would know.

"I must continue…" Then, the blond's expression slowly changed followed by a sound that spoke of amusement to Yuuri. Onyx eyes widened a little. _This could be a problem._ He braced himself.

With the delicate tip of a pink tongue, Trouble licked his upper lip slowly, following the silky skin, and considered the possibilities. "Care to join me?" Trouble asked, "…_seriously_…" The almost feminine tone was deep, throaty, and oh so terribly—Wolfram's. No traces of the otherworldly sounds that the spirit had been making earlier.

Gisela hid a grin behind her hand. Conrad held his breath. And Gwendal about had a coronary.

"Do not," Gwendal bellowed, "ever…speak with my brother's voice in that tone again!"

Ignoring it, Wolfram's chin rested on Yuuri's shoulder with the words, "Feel free to follow me, Murata, _if you can keep up_." The tone dripped with innuendo.

Murata laughed a little nervously and felt the eyes of everyone in the room. He found Yuuri's look particularly uncomfortable—a mixture of annoyance, anger, and something else that maybe even Yuuri himself didn't understand. The sage took a quick breath and decided to push on. "Then, where are _we_ going?"

"Out."

"What will we be doing?"

"This and that." The sexy tone returned. The sage noticed that the eyes had lost their hard edge and were becoming almost…a bit seductive. Appealing, even…now that they were fading to a sweet, pinkish color that complemented blond hair. Murata tugged at his collar.

"H-How long will we be gone?"

The spirit thought about it. "With horses, maybe…three days to make it to the von Christ lands. At least, that's what I know the territory to be called. But, names change so quickly and memories are so short."

Murata blinked at the words. _You're not exactly what you appear to be, are you Trouble?_ He nodded. "I understand." Then, he thought a little. "Why do you need to be there?"

"If I don't make it, I'll die and take Wolfram with me."

Everyone froze.

Instantly, the spirit felt Yuuri shift in his arms, roughly turning around. Now, chest to chest and legs tangled, he grabbed Wolfram's shoulders and held on—not caring how compromising their bodies looked in the bed to everyone in the room. "You had no business doing this to him! You're risking his life…for what? You're…what? Dead? You've lived your life. Now, go peacefully and leave Wolfram alone."

An unnatural growl came back at him. It was close, too close, but Yuuri didn't care. He was angry, teeth clenched.

"…Leave Wolfram alone?" They were almost nose to nose now. "I don't need to. You're the one who is good at that." With the sarcastic remark came deepening red eyes that gave Yuuri a cruel glare. Possibly, if the words had come from Murata or Conrad, Tra'va would have listened and been more patient. Then, Trouble leaned forward and whispered in Yuuri's ear "And watch what you're doing with your foot. I could grow to like it."

The double black blushed and pulled away.

Wolfram's head turned back in Murata's direction. "I need to find The Hermit's Shrine of the Holy Sepulcher. As part of the relics, my temporary resting place will be there for the next twenty years."

The light began to dawn on the sage. Murata nodded again, very slowly—thoughtfully. And then he asked, "Do your travels always coincide with the movement of the star Alnilam in the constellation Orion?"

A true smile came to pink lips. "Yes…I have to count the number of times it passes by. Then, I must move on to the next holy site."

"So, you're a traveler?" Murata asked, looking more intrigued.

"In a way…"

* * *

An hour later, a group of young men approached the horses that were waiting for them out front of the castle. The one following up the rear had shining orange hair and sky blue eyes. Yozak had returned early from a mission only to find that Conrad needed him for another. Never one to turn down an adventure with his captain, Yozak packed a few things and made himself ready. Murata came, too, since he was invited by the spirit that Gwendal had named "Trouble." And Trouble was more than pleased. What _was not_ pleasing to the spirit was the other person who insisted upon coming along.

He was annoying. He was clumsy. And he was holding them back.

"But, Heika!" warbled a very unhappy and melodramatic Günter von Christ. "You will be journeying to my lands. I simply must accompany you." He followed his king out the castle door—hands clasped together, tears drizzling own white cheeks. His nose had turned pinkish red. He blew into his lace-edged hankie.

"No, that's okay," Yuuri said distractedly, walking faster than normal down the stone steps while returning Morgif to his sheath. The double black was rushing to catch up with the little group that was now on horseback. "You stay here. Once we help out Trouble, we'll be coming home soon." He hopped on Ao's back and gave what he thought to be a cheery "No hard feelings, huh?" kind of wave.

Günter moaned, "Oh, Heika!" and blew his nose again with a razzing sound.

The white caped advisor refused to move from his spot until he saw the little group tromp out of sight. He sniffled again.

As the horses passed through the gate at a leisurely pace, Murata commented idly, "Maybe, we should have allowed him to come after all, Shibuya. He could have helped us find the shrine faster."

Yuuri put his hand behind his head and said vaguely, "Think so?" It was followed by a nervous laugh.

Conrad and Yozak exchanged amused looks.

"He couldn't," Trouble said urging Wolfram's white horse to walk a little faster. "Do you know how big that territory is? Anyway, only I can find it because it's something that my people built long ago…before your great-great grandfathers wore diapers." Wolfram's nose was suddenly stuck up in the air. It sniffed the breeze. "I can find it, but it's mostly through my senses."

"Your people, huh?" Yuuri said, making yet another attempt, in his personal opinion, to sound polite. "So, what are they like? Are they anything like Mazoku?" Or humans?

"Well, they're not near here anymore," Trouble grumped, throwing Wolfram's blond hair back with one hand to get it out of the way. "Since you're running off at the mouth, I have a few questions of my own." He glared at Yuuri. "In all of my travels…in all of these journeys that I've been forced to endure… I've never had a king come along for the ride." He frowned at Yuuri. "Go home!" He pointed back in the direction they'd come.

"What?!" Yuuri squeaked at him.

"Look, Mr. King-with-a-ridiculously-silly name," Trouble grumbled, "And what idiot is named ' Yuuri' anyway? Isn't that just another word for 'July' or something?"

Conrad looked down awkwardly and Yozak held back a laugh.

In response, a black eyebrow cocked at him. "Thanks for pointing that out…_Trouble_."

"_You_ named _me_!" Wolfram's voice bit out. The lower lip stuck out, too.

"Well, _he_ named _me_," Yuuri said, pointing at Conrad.

Not being one to give in, the spirit continued with "I've got more than enough company on this trip. I really don't see the need for you to come along." Wolfram's hands were on his hips, red eyes burning. "Just go back and sit on your manly throne. Make some kind of proclamation, polish your scepter or something, and chase skirts in the castle."

Yuuri's jaw dropped. "I don't do any of that!"

Trouble threw blond hair to one side and glared back with red eyes. "Wolfram's memories say you do."

"Wolfram is wrong!"

A sneaky smile came to the blond. "So, you're loyal to him?"

Yuuri blinked at that question.

"_Always_ loyal…? No dirty thoughts?"

Yuuri's face flushed.

"It seems to me," Yozak said cheerfully, "that Trouble can see Wolfram's heart and…_some_ memories."

The orange haired man got a nod followed by a red-eyed wink—which annoyed Yuuri. He frowned.

"But, sometimes the heart and the mind don't speak the same language," Murata chimed in. "Maybe, just maybe, things aren't always what they seem."

Trouble considered it. But, then he glanced at Yuuri with a mouth that turned down. "Still, it doesn't answer my question. Why are you following me around?"

"Because I want to," Yuuri shot back, frustrated again.

"It's pointless." Trouble complained and tried to wave Yuuri off with a swat of his hand. "I've got Wolfram's brother, Conrad. He's the best swordsman there is. One wrong move from me and I'm dead. Of course, Wolfram would be, too. But that's neither here nor there. Then, we have The Great Sage, Murata Ken, who…_intrigues me_. A devilishly handsome orange haired man named…" Trouble searched Wolfram's memories. "Named…Yo...zak…." Followed by a weak shrug when looking back at Yuuri. He said flatly, "Then, I've got you."

Yuuri stared, his mouth quenched together into a prune-pucker. "Wolfram's a friend. I have to come."

There was a deep, otherworldly growl emitted from Wolfram's body at that. "Is that all?"

"All?" Onyx eyes blinked back in confusion.

"He's your _friend_? That's your excuse?" Wolfram's hands gripped the reins until they were white and Conrad was beginning to worry at that. "I think you should have said," the spirit almost spat out, "that he was your fiancé and you cared about him…loved him…needed him to be by your side always."

Yuuri's gaze floated around to his traveling companions. They were amused and Morgif gave a brief "ho-ho-ho." The double black put a hand behind his head in embarrassment. "It's…um…well…"

"A mistake…I know. I can see the memory of you slapping him." Disgusted with Yuuri, Trouble nudged the horse to a trot.

Conrad flashed Yozak a look. He got a casual nod in return and his horse quickened the pace to keep behind Wolfram's. They would take turns during the trip to stay close to the blond. And while one guarded him, other would guard Yuuri. Luckily for the egos involved, only the sage noticed. And he wasn't telling anyone.

* * *

The midday sun beat down on them.

"How long until lunch?" Murata asked the group conversationally. They had been riding in silence for far too long, and it was starting to get to him.

"We should reach another large town in less than two hours," Yozak said. "I know a great place to eat." He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Yuuri knew that he was going to regret it, but he wanted to chat with Trouble again—just to get his point across that he wasn't embarrassed or intimidated by him. "What do you eat, Trouble?" Yuuri said in the same tone that he often used with his older brother.

"_Blood_." Wolfram's face whipped in Yuuri's direction, making him pull back on the reins and Conrad put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, please," Trouble said with a sigh. "You people are really amazing…_**not**_! If I had wanted to put the bite on your king, I could have done it back at the castle." Red eyes looked sincerely, and more than a little tiredly, into Conrad's soft brown ones. "My diet is fruit. Just that. So," he continued in a bossy tone, turning to Yozak, "I hope that restaurant you mentioned has something like bananas, peaches, dates, and jackfruit. I'll eat purple apples, too, but I hate veggies." He glared at Conrad. "And you can't make me eat 'em.'"

Conrad listened to Trouble's complaints about the evils of veggies and smiled to himself. It reminded him of Wolfram as a toddler—throwing his spinach mash against the nearest wall. A faint, green stain could still be seen there even to this day.

"It's a deal," Yozak said. He pulled out a red handkerchief and wiped his brow.

Wolfram's horse, still leading the way, slowed down a bit. The road forked and the young man's head turned left and right. He closed his eyes, allowing his senses to show him the way. He could smell it…almost taste it… on the wind. Then, he turned down a shady, tree covered road.

Wolfram's words, which seemed annoyed and almost tired, began to float on the wind. ""Da mihi quaeso virtutem ad diutius durandum."

Murata looked at Trouble, impressed that he understood the words after all this time--"Give me the strength to last longer."

"And the road stretches on…Now, I'm tied to this ground…" Wolfram's voice sang softly, but Murata heard it.

Trouble hummed the rest of the tune, louder this time. Everyone could hear it. It was a strange melody, but perfect for Wolfram's voice. It was slow and sad with a refrain that had a lonely feel to it. The lithe body swayed, keeping in time with the clomping of horse hooves.

The blond's body stretched, and he wiped his face absentmindedly.

"You know," Wolfram's voice said over his shoulder, "it's getting pretty hot." He grabbed the neck to his white dress shirt and stretched it out a little. He poked his nose in and sniffed. "Ew! This body perspires."

Yuuri had to hold his breath to keep from snickering, but it was a struggle. After living with his blond fiancé for three years, he was very well aware what Wolfram could smell like after a good day of training. But, Wolfram was also fanatical about bathing and smelling good.

Trouble took off the blue jacket, draped it across his legs, just to put it somewhere, and started unbuttoning the white shirt.

"Ummm…Trouble?" Yuuri began with a panicked edge. This wasn't funny anymore. He blinked hard at the sight when he saw the white shirt being stripped off, too, and being placed on top of the jacket.

Wolfram now looked like something of a wild child, sweat glistening on the body with blond hair blowing back in the breeze. He was naked from the waist up—something that Yuuri knew quite well that _his Wolfram_ would never approve of. The double black recalled the one time he tried to get Wolfram to sumo wrestle with him, he'd refused and insisted upon keeping his clothes on—all of them.

"Oh, this feels so much better," Wolfram's voice said, with only a tinge of the animalistic growl accompanying it. "Ummmm…I love it." Eyes closed, he tilted his chin up with almost a euphoric look on his face. His body rocked with the motion of riding the horse.

Yuuri cast worried eyes at his godfather. Conrad smiled back apologetically.

"Come to think of it," the spirit said haughtily, "I never really got a good look at this new body." He stared down at himself. "Hey…I'm not bad." His face was impressed.

Yuuri's jaw dropped. He urged his horse to trot faster to catch up with Trouble.

"I'm really…kind of…cute…"

Murata laughed darkly at that. Yuuri flashed him a frown.

The spirit released the reins for a second, placed both palms on his chest and slid his hands down to his waist. Trouble threw a blond head back at the feel. "Nice muscles…well proportioned… Oh…I am _good_!"

"W-Wait a second!" Yuuri objected. "Don't start doing that in public. It looks…wrong…really, really…wrong."

Red eyes glared at Yuuri and a fang dropped out of Wolfram's mouth. "I'm just appreciating something you can't…" His eyes cut sideways. "Or won't." Wolfram's fingers ran down his chest again much more slowly this time, taking in the feeling. And Yuuri found himself dying inside as every second ticked. His horse slowed.

"This body is _so good_." Trouble rode the horse, now, with an intentional, seductive sway. "Then again, I wonder if I'm good…everywhere…?" He placed one hand on his right butt cheek and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Don't!" Yuuri barked. "I said stop it." He forced Ao to trot faster to stay side by side with Trouble.

Blond hair swished at him as an answer. "Not listening to you…" Then, he thought about it. "Wait…gotta check one more thing…" The spirit hooked Wolfram's thumbs on his trouser's waistband and pulled back. He looked down…eyeing everything south of the belt buckle with an owlish look.

Yuuri almost choked on his saliva. "Wha- What are you doing?!" Yuuri squeaked in anger.

"Eh?"

"I mean, I know what you're doing…but …I mean… STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

"Well, I'd have to take a peek sometime," the spirit shot back. "After all, I've got this body for the next few days…and I'm gonna see sometime. Might as well get a preview right now.

"What?! I mean… Look… I…." Yuuri felt himself getting ready to have a stroke.

"Or, were you planning to go _for me_." There was a vicious chuckle at that.

"Don't be crude."

"You should try it. It's fun."

"Perv," Yuuri muttered under his breath.

"Oh, put on your big boy undies and just deal with it, your majesty." A warbled, deep snicker from Wolfram's body followed. "Oh, look! I jiggle!"

"Shut up!" The double black glared. "You're enjoying this too much, aren't you?"

"Oh, that's not enjoying myself," Trouble said toothily. "_This_ is enjoying myself." Wolfram's body turned to Yuuri. In just seconds, the eyes faded from red to pink. In the next second, he'd copied Yozak's sky blue eyes. The hair brightened to Wolfram's sunny gold and the fingernails turned to a rosy-pinkish color. "Try this," he said in Wolfram's voice—a perfect copy. In almost an excited fangirl fashion, Wolfram's features turned to pure excitement and glee. "I am so smokin' _hot_!"

"What?" Yuuri jaw dropped. "Don't talk like that in Wolfram's voice."

"Care to stop me?" He leaned over and said seductively. "I don't think you can."

"That's not my point."

A blond head turned up to the heavens and shouted, "Oh, I am so fine! Yes! Yes! Yes!" The shouts were almost orgasmic.

"I don't care," Yuuri, blood red in the face, growled dangerously. Head sinking lower.

Eyes narrowed at the double black. "I know you don't care. Wolfram knows it, too."

The spirit grinned back toothily. Wolfram's new fangs shrunk back while Yuuri watched, which made the double black blanch.

"Still.." Yuuri said, shaking his head to think straight.

"Not only is my face fine," the spirit bragged, "but I've got a great bundle to boot."

"Eh?" Yuuri blinked at that. "Bundle? What's a bundle?" He looked to Conrad for an answer.

Yozak burst out laughing, as did Murata—who almost fell off his horse. He whimpered "bundle" in between laughing fits until his eyes started to water and he was crying.

Conrad opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, wondering just how to word this to his godson.

"It's ummm…an old-fashioned term, Shibuya," Murata wheezed, still laughing so hard his sides hurt. He gasped for air. "Back when men wore thin, form fitting leggings instead of trousers... In one of my former lives, I wore them, too, and hoped that my 'bundle' impressed my dates. A little, bitty bundle up front would be a bad thing."

"And I've got a great big one!" Trouble crowed.

Somewhere up above, a Bad Omen bird was startled by the scream of revulsion that was projected by the 27th Maou of Shin Makoku, Shibuya Yuri.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I don't see what you're so upset about," Trouble mumbled irritably, shooting glances in the double black's direction. "All I did was give a little bit of constructive criticism. And, by the looks of it, you could use some."

Yuuri answered by rolling his eyes. He'd had enough of this.

"I'm just saying that if you stop slouching and keep your shoulders back, you'll look like you actually HAVE A CHEST, unlike Yozak—who really has a chest."

Onyx eyes threatened from the left. Still angry, he forced his horse to ride evenly with Trouble—just to make it clear he wasn't going to back down from insults.

The spirit gritted pearly white teeth.

"I think that what Shibuya was trying to say was that your…" Then, he snickered a little into his fist and, after he got a glare from the double black, straightened his own shoulders up—maybe a little too much—and looked into red eyes. "Well…um…needless to say, your 'suggestion' made him…_uncomfortable_."

"But it's true," Wolfram's voice said without the animalistic growl behind it.

"Tra'va…" A finger wagged. "Just because it's the truth, doesn't mean you should say it," the sage admonished with a smile in his voice.

"Fine friend you are," Yuuri muttered.

Wolfram's face suddenly wore that blank expression that the sage had come to recognize as "searching Wolfram's heart." Almost imperceptibly, a blond head nodded. "He's like that, isn't he?" Then, a lower lip stuck out. "Spoil sport."

Yuuri frowned deeply.

Trouble saw this and growled in an undertone, "Maybe we should all just hold him down and loosen that G-string of his. He'd be more fun..."

"What?!" Yuuri said incredulously.

A Wolframish sing-song voice said cheekily, "N-o-t-h-i-n-g!"

"I heard you!"

"Nope. You never listen."

"Yes, I did! Every word."

"Since when?"

Yuuri leaned into Trouble and, behind him, Yozak laughed a little while casting glances at Conrad.

"You said to loosen my G-string!"

A blond face stared back with a grin that had sharp little fangs. "But you _don't like_ to wear G-strings. You once told Wolfram that it felt like having a kite string cutting you right between the cheeks and up your…"

"Enough!" Yuuri yelled.

"You kept reaching in the back and tugging at your…"

Yuuri darkened. "And, by the way, I told that to Wolfram in confidence. So, stop it."

Red eyes darted at him. "I will if you will."

"Oh, and what is _that_ supposed to mean?" The double black thought he'd had him there. And it felt good. Fighting with Trouble was nothing like arguing with Wolfram. Trouble had a vindictive streak behind it. Wolfram was a kind of blustery anger laced with the best of intentions—and with almost a flirtatious feel.

"Stop pretending that I'm your fiancé. I'm not. And I refuse to act like him."

Conrad saw the surprised look on Yuuri's face. He also noticed that the horse dropped back a bit from Trouble's side.

There was a "victory smirk" on Wolfram's face. Ruby eyes danced. And, of course, pressing it further was a given. "So, since I'm not Wolfram. I'm going to make a few little changes around here…to make this seem more like the life I was used to…back when I was alive." A blond head tilted in Yuuri's direction. "But you don't care, right?" Mirth was edging back into the voice.

Yuuri, being angry and annoyed, missed it entirely. "As I've said before, we're sticking with you. Nothing you say or do will change that." He could feel his face radiating heat and his heart beating hard with barely contained ire.

"Oh, good!" Hands clapped together eagerly. "I'll take that as approval—not that I need it, though."

Everyone in the group exchanged looks.

"Then, let's see…" Red eyes darted to Conrad. "As much as I like the idea…under the circumstances…it's just plain wrong. Sorry." A small shrug followed it.

Conrad felt confused but didn't let it bother him too much. Trouble had a gift for distraction. And he told himself that his job was to protect Yuuri and Wolfram. He would stick to that and do what was necessary.

"I do like you though, Little Big Brother," Wolfram's voice said, and Conrad, still not used to hearing the words, nodded almost shyly.

Red eyes turned to Murata and then Yozak. "Yes, I've made my decisions."

"And that would be….?" Yuuri almost growled.

"I'll have Murata for my day-time husband and Yozak for my night-time husband!" A blond head was held up in triumph. A fist in the air. "Yes!"

"What?!" Yuuri couldn't believe his ears. "N-No! You can't… It's just… I mean…!"

"Do you have a problem with that, _oh Great Demon King_?" The voice sounded like Wolfram's, one hundred percent. The blond continued with "I mean, at least, I don't have a problem with it. And I suspect," the eyes faded to a soft pink and Yozak got a wink, "they won't mind very much, either."

"No, look… I mean…" Yuuri stammered at a much lower volume this time. His mind was racing and he needed to get his points across. Now! Trouble was causing…well…_trouble_. "Okay…to begin with, you're possessing Wolfram. And, under ordinary circumstances, he'd never…ever…"

"So sure?" the spirit interrupted.

Yuuri's face went blank at that.

"Yes, he's loyal to you. Loves you. Trusts you…not to hurt him…" With each word, Trouble's tone got deeper with a disconcerting growl. "And, in the end, he'll probably die slowly…alone…on the battlefield…as soldiers often do…" Yuuri was about to object, saying there would be no wars but Trouble's eyes were turning blood red again, and the face was taking on an angry scowl. "But, don't mistake me…Wolfram may look 'girly' to you…and, yes, he knows how you see him." The eyes narrowed. "But Wolfram really is a _man_, underneath it all."

The double black tilted his head down for a second as a quiet chuckle reached his ears.

"Yuuri… Do you think he doesn't notice other pretty faces watching him…waiting for him? Oh, please! He's engaged, not dead!"

Yuuri's jaw dropped.

A blond strand of hair was tucked behind an ear. "Oh, wait! I _am_ dead… That means I understand it _both_ ways."

"Trouble…!" Yuuri practically grunted.

"Oh, in the contest of 'Who Knows Wolfram Better,' I think the winner is…ME!" There was a brief chuckle of contentment at that. "So, getting back to my original idea…before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I'll take Murata _and_ Yozak."

A pair of glasses flashed sunlight. It was so strange to hear the words coming out of Wolfram's mouth. But, he had to admit, it was a little refreshing, too. Forcing back a smile, Murata asked, "And what, pray tell, makes me worthy of the honor of being your 'day husband'?" Yes, he'd twist the knife a little and watch Yuuri out of the corner of his eye. There were times when he lived to torture the other double black.

Trouble turned around and looked at him thoughtfully. The eyes faded to a cotton candy pink. It went along with sweet features and Wolfram's soft, blond hair. There was a flirtatious smirk and Wolfram's hand wiped a bead of sweat that had traveled from the curve of his neck to the bare chest below. The body swayed seductively on the horse.

Murata swallowed hard and felt his face flush at it, but made himself look at Trouble anyway.

"Because…you're like the moon."

"The _moon_?" the sage said, his mind clearing from the fog. He pushed his glasses up on his nose with his middle finger. It was a strange analogy coming from Trouble who usually spoke in the simplest of terms, nettling people while at it. _The moon?_ Possibly, the idea came from Wolfram's memories. Maybe, he'd test the theory a little. "So, I'm a barren rock in the sky where no life grows?"

Trouble smiled widely, turning back to watch the road, but still speaking to Murata. The voice changed to something soft, contemplative. "You are not light, but you reflect it. You are the watery sphere…changing slowly every night…both grey-n-white…shifting with the turn of the stars. You look down on the sea and it rises up to meet you…powers seen and unseen…intuition and insight." The voice floated on the wind, "You are one and you are many." Then Tra'va looked up into the sky. Even though it was day, the moon was a soft, white orb before them, seemingly leading the way. "See? It's a good omen."

Murata lowered his head with a smile. Once again, Trouble dropped the mask just a little. He had guessed right after all. This confirmed it.

A blond head turned to Yozak, but the look was entirely different…with wide shoulders, orange hair, and bright blue eyes, the man was absolutely toothsome. Trouble raked pinkish eyes over Yozak, up and down, much to the man's embarrassment. With a slight bit of nervousness worming its way in, Yozak caught Conrad's eye and felt an awkward blush coming on that he tried his best to hide.

Conrad tilted his head and raised both eyebrows in mock confusion. He wasn't going to help the orange haired spy out of this one. But, he was chuckling on the inside. It was fun to watch Yozak squirm a little.

Seeing this, Yozak raised a hand to the back of his head boyishly.

Trouble's voice dropped to a low, sexy tone. "And considering how absolutely well built Yozak is, there's really no need to explain why I want him for a night-time husband. Is there?"

Yuuri blurted out things that Tra'va considered inconsequential and quickly ignored. They slipped through his mind like sand. Then, the smile disappeared from Wolfram's sweet face. Slightly trembling, pale fingers raked through blond hair.

Before anyone could say or do anything, Wolfram's body moved with lightning speed. Yuuri suddenly found the reins of Wolfram's white horse being tossed to him carelessly and the blue military coat smacked in his face. The blond disappeared and suddenly reappeared… Right behind Yozak!

Yozak's horse was startled at the sudden flash of purple light and a shifting black movement—not to mention the unexpected weight. But, being the skilled horseman, Yozak was able to get the prancing, vexed steed under control. He looked over his shoulder and blinked. Wolfram's lithe body was behind his…still pulling on the shirt over his head.

"This skin is much too white. It burns easily," Trouble complained, scooting up and pressing up against Yozak. He hid behind the tall frame, resting his cheek against the spy's shoulder. He took a few slow breaths. "I really need to eat. And this body is getting tired. Can't we get there any faster?"

Trouble was complaining as usual, but Conrad could see that something was wrong. There was a faint blush on Wolfram's cheeks and the rest of his skin was losing color. He was white around the mouth, too. And he seemed to be fighting back pain. _That doesn't look like sunburn. _Conrad watched a little longer, brown eyes narrowed. Maybe the spirit wasn't telling the truth, or possibly, it wasn't the _whole_ truth. Shakily, Wolfram's arms wrapped themselves around Yozak's waist. The eyes closed with relief, shutting out the brightness.

"Sure thing," Yozak said cheerfully, cutting his eyes behind him. "I'm your night-time husband, though. I think we'll make your daytime husband pay for your meal." He gave a friendly wink to Murata.

"Of course, I'll have to," Murata said with a wide grin, making eye contact with Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head at the heavens. "Everyone is crazy but me. That's the only explanation."

* * *

Swaying. Swaying. Swaying.

_Huh?_

Tra'va's eyes shot open with the strange feeling of wide, thick hands around the waist. Bodily, Yozak moved the lithe form from behind to sitting in front.

"You almost fell off just then," Yozak mumbled quietly so that only Trouble could hear. Much louder, he said, "I think you'll be far more _comfortable_ like this." The word "comfortable" had a sexy ring to it.

Murata smiled widely at a sight he never expected to see—proud, bratty Wolfram on a horse, sitting sidesaddle and leaning against Yozak's broad chest. The blond form looked practically boneless and needed the support of a hand to stay in place. Murata smiled to himself. There was something slightly improper about it all--which, of course, made it all the more fun to watch. And the sage enjoyed watching, especially if it got the better of the other double black. _Sometimes_, Murata thought to himself, _Yuuri needs a swift kick in the bottom._

Trouble shut red eyes again and turned away to keep the sun out.

"Thank you," whispered a quiet voice. Tra'va leaned against Yozak's firm, toned chest with relief. Yozak moved his left arm in to brace the body lying against him. Before long, Wolfram's frame was leaning heavily. Blond hair brushed against pale features with each clomp of a horse's hoof. Then, Wolfram's body shifted to get more comfortable on the saddle. A smaller hand reached out and touched the orange haired man's.

"Go back to sleep," Yozak said quietly. "You're safe with me."

He blinked at that, and turned up, eyes half lidded. "Safe? It's been so long. I've almost forgotten what that feels like."

The smile faded from Yozak, and for reasons he couldn't explain even to himself, he held Wolfram a little bit tighter.

The horses continued clomping down the road while Tra'va dozed quietly against Yozak. Yuuri, for once, was happy for the silence. He needed the rest from the persistent snipes coming from his annoying, impossible, and very much _possessed_ fiancé—a situation that seemed wrong and disturbing somehow once he put some real thought behind it. The double black never knew how much of it was the truth, as Wolfram saw it, and how much was a twisted version coming from Trouble.

The road up ahead forked off into different directions and a side trail snaked away.

"I think Yozak should take the lead since he knows where we're going," Conrad said, giving Yuuri a thin smile.

He got a nod.

The double black dropped back at Conrad's suggestion—allowing Yozak to lead the way to the town where they would be eating a very late lunch. But, as the horses passed each other, Yuuri could see an almost angelic body leaning against Yozak, snuggled in much too close—allowing the spy to clutch him like a stuffed bear.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes and huffed to himself.

Conrad smiled, but only for a second. Then, his eyes drifted to Wolfram, too. He knew what his brother looked like when he was sick and trying to hide it. And Conrad could see beyond the red eyes, off color hair, and fingernails. The face had a fever blush. There were dark circles forming against fine, porcelain skin, and the slack muscles were a dead giveaway. He would speak to Yozak about it tonight. Between the two of them, they might have to spend more time watching Wolfram for further symptoms. It was obvious to Conrad that Yuuri was so put out, he wasn't going to notice anything in the near future regarding Wolfram's health. So, other steps might need to be taken.

The horses entered the small village that hosted only three rows of houses, a black smith's, and three restaurants. Following the spy, they pulled up in front of "The Twin Doves" Inn.

"There's a restaurant next door," Yozak said, giving Trouble's face a quick pat to wake him up. Red eyes opened sleepily while a hand ruffled the dull blond hair.

"Still with me?" Yozak whispered with a sheepish grin. He got a smile as a reward.

Yozak jumped off the horse boyishly and motioned to the entrance. "Let's eat, huh?"

Wolfram's blond head nodded and then the body straightened up when Yozak's palms stretched up for him, arms opened wide. The blond dove from the horse and into the spy's arms. Hugged up against Yozak, a toothy grin with the edge of a fang dropping out. "Thanks again."

Yuuri gave a "humph" as he tied up his horse and Wolfram's to the hitching post. Conrad smiled lightly and did the same. Murata's horse was already tied. He followed a stiff walking Yozak and Trouble into the restaurant. The door opened with a cheery jingle from the bell at the top. There was the pleasant aroma of beef stew. Trouble's nose twitched unpleasantly at the scent and got a hard rub.

The restaurant's interior consisted of two rows of five tables each. Each table had six chairs, a white linen table cloth, and lacquered wooden plates with a fork set to the side. There were three medium sized windows against the north wall with a view of blooming plumb trees.

Besides the entry door, there was another door leading into the kitchen. Four waitresses wearing short blue dresses and frilly aprons flitted back and forth with food, drinks, or dirty plates.

The little group took a table that had the best view of the restaurant's interior. Conrad had a habit of picking such places for the sake of safety. Yozak did, too. After all these years, it was second nature for them. There was no need to even discuss it.

Yozak, Wolfram, and Murata were on one side of the table. On the opposite side, Conrad and Yuuri faced them.

While Murata wiped clean his spotty fork, Conrad caught Yozak's eye and gave a look that the spy knew very well. It was the "need to talk when we're alone" look. In response, he gave a quirked grin and a wink.

Both men then turned to Wolfram, keeping an eye on him without making it too obvious. Yuuri was sitting directly across from him.

_If things were different_, Yuuri thought, _I'd have Wolfram fighting to sit next to me. He'd be glaring around the room, giving people the "Back off, he's mine" vibes to just about everybody. Usually, it'd make me uncomfortable and I'd have to say something to him…but…_

Black eyes stared evenly across the table. He was waiting for some kind of critical comment to come from Trouble. But the spirit possessing Wolfram was acting like a sleepy child who was eating breakfast before the first day of school—struggling to stay awake and covering a yawn.

_He's in zombie mode,_ the double black thought. Yuuri decided that he was satisfied with the little "attitude break" and a few minutes of silence followed.

More customers were filtering in and taking seats. Yuuri, ignoring it, was leaning with his elbow on the table, his head resting in his palm. Yuuri's head turned towards the window. He was wishing, vaguely, that he could be a bird and fly away from this situation. Murata, he noted, was enjoying himself way too much. His friend was chatting about the possibility of having the stew, but maybe not. He wasn't sure. Was anyone else going to have stew, too? Etc. etc. Murata tugged lightly at Tra'va's arm. Yuuri's teeth clinched together at the sight.

A pretty young lady with brown hair piled up on her head in a tight bun and soft peach-colored eyes approached their table. Her frilly starched apron floated a bit girlishly as she stopped.

"Can I get you anything to drink or would you like to order now?"

Murata cast a quick glance at Trouble. A fist was being rubbed cutely into a sleepy eye. But it was working. Trouble was waking up.

"Yes," Murata said, "my husband," he motioned to the blond in the middle, "would like a tankard of apple cider and I'd like the same."

Shocked to the core, Yuuri couldn't peel his eyes from Murata.

The sage shrugged back sweetly.

Looking slightly bored and scribbling on her note pad, the waitress murmured as she wrote the order down. Then, she got the orders from everyone else at the table and disappeared through the kitchen door.

_That's right, _Yuuri thought_, same sex marriages are pretty well accepted here. Why did I act like that just now? _He glanced at Trouble's face…no, Wolfram's face… In fact, at that moment, the blond was having a quick whisper session with the sage. Yuuri felt his chest tighten. Yuuri saw Murata's hand rest lightly on the blond's shoulder. _It means nothing!_ He told himself to ignore it. _Ignore everything—go back to daydreaming out the window._ Then, he pushed the feeling deep down and tried to forget he'd ever thought such silly things. There was no way he could be jealous of the two of them. He just didn't want this situation to go any further. That's all.

Soon enough, the waitress returned with an oversized tray with tankards on it. She passed the drinks around, curtseyed, and left with her usual, bored expression.

Murata took a drink and cut his eyes in Yuuri's direction. He smirked. He raised the tankard to his lips again and tasted the apple cider.

Trouble's eyes were wide and happy. There was a huge "glugging" sound as the tankard bottom tipped up higher and higher.

Everyone stared at this most certainly "un-Wolframish" behavior.

"Ahh!" Trouble said, wiping pinkish lips on the back of a white sleeve. Trouble turned to Murata. "How'd you know that I'd like this?"

"Well, you like fruit." He gave a shrug.

"Still, it doesn't mean that I'd like apple cider."

"Call it a guess…"

There was a genuine smile on Trouble's face. "You guessed right, then…" The tone was sincere.

On the table, Yuuri buried his head in his arms. "I want to order now," he sighed.

"Yes, I'm hungry, too," Trouble agreed.

The double black raised his head and onyx eyes squinted over at him. "You mean, we actually _agree_ on something…?" came the muffled voice.

"Yes…wimp."

"Don't call me that," Yuuri said evenly.

"Why?" Red eyes danced at him. A challenge.

"Because that's something only between Wolfram and me." The eyes closed and Yuuri rested his head.

The memories returned…

Tucking in Greta at bedtime. Green eyes turned up to him. Soft, glowing…happy.

On the training grounds, knees covered in dirt. "I said that you need to raise your sword higher. And strike like you mean it! Follow through!" Wolfram's voice was stern when they practiced swordplay. There was the feeling of "I need you to learn this. Your life depends on it."

"Wait," Wolfram murmured. He stopped a "much too eager to leave" double black from tiptoeing out of the bedroom. "You really should button your collar. You're eating dinner with the nobles tonight." There was a brief pause and Yuuri could remember himself saying, "But it's so hot!" Yes, he whined, and it didn't sound manly or kingly at all. Tugging at the buttons, Wolfram took two steps closer to him with a determined expression. The double black could feel the soft breath against his face. Wolfram had been eating the starlight peppermints that he'd brought back from Earth. The blond always liked sweet things. "Now, you're perfect…" Wolfram's hands were still on his collar. He was waiting. They were close, so close. All Yuuri'd have to do is lean forward a little to kiss him. But, his heart froze and the rest of his body followed. Seeing it, green eyes took on a tearful shine. He walked away dejectedly, sighing "wimp."

Sitting in the restaurant with the noise of other patrons chatting away with each other, Yuuri realized that he was lonely…had felt lonely for awhile now…lonely for Wolfram.

_I miss him. I really do._

* * *

Trouble, sitting at the table with a fat slice of fruit pie, happily scooped up a large spoonful. The gooey bite sat lovingly on the spork, amber syrup drizzling down slowly. It was the perfect balance of sweet and tart with a sugary goodness that melted in sinfully. The "mmms" and "ohs" that the blond emitted after each tasty morsel made Yuuri squirm in his seat. Wolfram's voice uttering moans of "_so good_" got even their own waitress to watch with a fine blush coming to her.

The spirit took another bite, leaned the blond head against Yozak's shoulder, and moaned in pleasure again. "Mmmm… Oh, you've got to try this."

Yuuri glanced around nervously. Never had he heard Wolfram like that. Well, yes, he had to admit to himself that Wolfram had been having some odd dreams lately where he'd groan a little and sigh followed by strange, almost vicious snickers...along with the words "Yuuri, not now." The double black shook the thought out of his head. "Can't you be a little less noisy when you eat?" he hissed.

"Eh?" the spirit said, honestly confused. "What'd I do now?" The mouth still chewed. Pink lips were glossy with syrup. Yuuri did his best to ignore it all.

"Come on, Shibuya… Tra'va was just enjoying a little lunch." The sage pretended to go back to his beef stew and hard rolls. He gave the bowl a slow stir with a smile tugging at him.

"_Enjoying_ is one thing, but he's being…" Yuuri couldn't make himself say it. He squirmed again. "He's…well…just _loud_, that's all." He gave a pleading look to his godfather for support. "Come on Conrad, you have to agree with me on this one!"

"Can I get you another piece?" the waitress asked silkily, bustling her way to the table. Tra'va'd certainly gotten her attention. Peach colored eyes watched Wolfram with an allure that Yuuri also didn't take very kindly.

Tra'va's eyes faded to a dusty rose color that had a slight wobble to them. "If you'd be so kind. I'd love you…to do that." There was an unmistakably boyish grin followed up with an "OUCH!" A blond head whipped in the direction of Conrad and Yuuri angrily. "Who, the hell, just kicked me?!"

Conrad folded his arms against his chest and turned to Yuuri, expecting an answer.

"It's a small table, Trouble. Just deal with it." Yuuri ended the last sentence with a quirked, almost haughty smile.

* * *

It was time to go. Understandably, Yuuri was the first through the door and into the early afternoon sun. He was glad to be out of there. He gave his arms a good stretch as Murata exited.

Two figures standing in between the alley to the blacksmith's shop and the first row of houses watched. One, wearing a wide brimmed hat, threw down the remains of a lit cigarette into a mud puddle. It spat angrily as it died.

Yuuri, Murata, and Conrad were already getting back on their horses. There was the creak of leather as shoes and boots shoved their way into stirrups, and the saddles held their riders.

Trouble approached Wolfram's white horse and gave the long mane a stroke. The white hair was beautiful and the steed perfect. It reminded the spirit that Wolfram had so many material gifts—things he always had and were normal to him, things he took for granted. The spirit stroked the horse again and got nuzzled sweetly in return. "You like me, don't you?" he said quietly.

"Yes, I do," Yozak said behind him.

Tra'va jumped and whipped around. "S-Sorry…I was thinking…of…"

"Well, I was thinking, too," Yozak interrupted with his usual jovial ways. "Do you want to ride with me again?" He gave a sky blue-eyed wink.

Trouble thought about it for a minute, scratching the side of a button nose, and said, "Sure."

Yuuri couldn't believe it when the spirit got back on Yozak's horse with him. The two rode closely nestled together and the double black just shook his head at that. This was, in his totally objective opinion, _stupid_.

Onyx eyes looked to Conrad, pleading again. He motioned to the unlikely pair with a tilt of the head. Oddly, his godfather returned the look with understanding brown eyes.

"Let me see…" Trouble murmured. The eyes closed in concentration. Wolfram's white hand lifted itself up and touched the wind, caressing it like a lover. The hand was pushed back a little with the next gust. "This is the way." A finger pointed to the left and the horses moved in that direction.

The horses clomped on and the spirit's mind wandered with the gentle rocking. The white hands were laced together, fingertips touching Wolfram's pink lips. Short, small breaths came forth.

A strong arm wound its way around Tra'va's waist. There was a gentle Wolframish chuckle at that as the spirit's mind returned to the situation at hand.

"Something funny?" the orange haired spy asked.

"I suppose."

"And that would be?"

Wolfram's body turned and the face was unmistakably his. The eyes faded to a light pink and the fangs shrunk back again. Being up this close to Wolfram was slightly unsettling for Yozak. He never really did get along with Conrad's little brother. It was always a somewhat tense and, at best, a sort of "mocking" relationship—especially when it came to his observations about the royal couple. Once, he'd told Wolfram that "love was never born out of jealousy." He believed it, but wondered if the brat ever took his advice. But, now, they were close enough that he could smell the scent of sunflowers and the blond hair was soft against him with each gust of wind that blew it hard enough. The supple body rested with a head on his shoulder, eyes turning toward him with seriousness.

"I know what you're doing, you know."

"Eh?" he said softly in his practiced, boyish tone so that no one else behind them could hear. His heart rate picked up. Yozak tried to ignore it.

The face was near him—very near.

"You're keeping me this close so that you can watch me. You don't want me to escape with the body."

Yozak's smile didn't dim. "So, you caught me," he returned with a kind of charm that melted hearts. He shrugged.

"But I wasn't lying," Tra'va said, "when I explained that if Wolfram dies, I fade from this world, too."

The arm tightened around Wolfram's waist protectively. Yozak leaned forward, placing his lips next to a pale, shell-like ear. "And if you get sick?"

A sigh was his answer. "I have maybe six to seven days to reach the next holy site. This should be more than enough time to make it."

"And if we don't find it?" Tra'va could see that the blue eyes had taken on a sharp edge. The worry was there. It was real. This was Conrad's baby brother.

"We'll make it."

"If we don't…?" The tone was harder this time, losing its warm glow.

"I can't think that far ahead." Tra'va was getting upset. The voice, soft as it was, was taking on a stressed pitch. "We'll make it. I've _never_ failed."

"But you've come close before, haven't you?" He just couldn't let this go.

The blond head nodded and the lithe body leaned against him. Yozak was surprised to feel Wolfram's hand pressed against his own. The fingers sought out his and laced with them.

"If that happens…if I fail and the worst comes…I don't want Wolfram to suffer, to burn literally from the inside out." Tra'va was now nestled against the orange haired man, needing comfort. The hand tightened against Yozak's. In a harsh whisper, Tra'va said, "I'll give you the honor of killing me and sending my soul to the void."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Murata held the reins lightly in his hands and enjoyed his surroundings—just being one with nature and letting himself be. He had an excellent panoramic view of the leafy trees, the shrubs, the road, a pothole in the road, and—a very put out Shibuya Yuuri who kept stealing glances in the direction of a certain blond who was supposed to be his fiancé . Yes, it was all terribly awkward. Murata smirked openly at that. But, then he caught Conrad's eye and the look faded quickly enough. Murata gave a nervous laugh instead.

"Yozak?" Trouble said quietly. The spirit tilted a porcelain face up and shifted back against the man's broad chest in order to meet eyes with him.

"Yes?" The spy smirked a little down at the lithe form resting against him. He knew what trouble was doing.

"I have a little bit of bad news for you. Can you handle it?"

There was a slight rumbling chuckle at that. He leaned in but cut he eyes sideways and enjoyed the dark look that Yuuri was flashing at them. Well, it wasn't as enjoyable as wearing that black garter belt under his silk skirt while working under cover as a barmaid last week. But it ranked up there.

"And just what would that be?" the spy asked quietly.

"Yes, Yuuri is—quite literally—a royal pain right now." The spirit had caught the double black's look, too. "But that's part of the problem."

"I still don't follow," Yozak said pleasantly, pulling back on the horse's reins so that they'd slow to a more casual pace.

"Oh, I'd say 'follow' is an excellent word in this case," Tra'va mumbled. "Right now, we've being followed."

The spy narrowed his eyes and was about to turn back his head to see when Wolfram's hand caught his chin and turned it downwards, closer to pink lips and golden locks. "Don't look," came the mutter with a slight edge to it. "In this situation, we need to make sure that Yuuri Heika is okay. Someone needs to guard him and Murata, who is all brain and no brawn, while the rest of us deal with them."

"Why does it sound like you've got a plan?" he said, suddenly very suspicious of the person sitting in front of him.

"Well, I'd better if I want to get to where I'm going," mumbled the spirit bitterly. "Right now, I'd say that about two nindans behind us, there's…"

"Eh?" He cocked his head to the side. "What's a 'nindan,' anyway?"

Wolfram's features narrowed with impatience. "My people measured the distance between one village and the next in 'nindans.' I guess, your tribe has another term for it. But that's not important right now." Trouble huffed a bit and continued, "I can feel two muddy orange-red auras behind us. There's blood lust in their hearts. I can smell it on the wind, too."

"And the color of the auras… Does color matter?"

There was a sharp nod. "Not…good…"

"So, they're definitely after us?" Yozak asked as quietly as he could.

"That's the problem, I can't tell …exactly. They could be really mad…at each other or someone else. I dunno." There was a frustrated, impatient sigh that followed. "This is going to cause all kinds of delays… Why…oh, why…did that wimpy king have to come along for us to protect?"

Red eyes shot in Yuuri's direction. The two of them glanced at each other at the same time, eyes wide with surprise, and then both looked away in embarrassment.

"Y-u-u-r-i! Yuuri just makes me feel sometimes… He just…" Trouble never finished the grumbled out sentence.

There was a snicker from Murata, who had pieced together that the spirit was grumbling about the double black. Murata's mirth, though, was suddenly cut short thanks to Yuuri coughing into his fist, in a most Gwendalish fashion to get his attention, and then frowning at him.

"I suppose," Yozak said softly to redirect the conversation, "we should just tell everyone."

Tra'va disagreed and told him so with a look. "Let us investigate first. That way, no one gets upset over nothing. Because, if I'm wrong…" Another glance at Yuuri. "I'd hate to look foolish."

"Well, I'd rather be foolish…and alive…"

"I'm already dead… So, the second part really isn't a worry for me anymore."

Yozak gave a very deep sigh. This seemed suspicious…very suspicious. Was the spirit even telling the truth? _Are people really out there?_

Trouble made a sound—an almost animalistic mix of amusement and annoyance. "Still don't trust me, my night-time husband?" The spirit watched the road that they were traveling on without really taking anything in. The look was vacant, distant. "Make up your mind quickly. Those two are closing in fast. In fact, they've left the road and they're traveling parallel to it—using the shrubs and trees as cover."

Blue eyes hardened at that.

"Okay…fine," Trouble said as a prolonged sigh and then reached down into Wolfram's right boot with a smooth motion so that no one would notice. "Take this," the spirit said and slipped a small, but very sharp, dagger to Yozak. "This is a family heirloom that was given to Wolfram when he turned fifty. He likes the carved rosewood handle." Then, a pinkish eye glanced at it. "Come to think of it, I like it, too…"

Yozak blinked.

"If I try to run off, just throw this little darling into my back and be done with me."

The spy shook his head and handed the blade back. "You know that I can't. And that's not how the kiddo…" He motioned to Yuuri with a nod of this head. "…Operates, either. You can see that in Wolfram's heart. I know you can."

There was a Wolframish "humph" followed by "True enough…" Pink eyes cut past the place where the sage had just ridden by on his horse. "We don't have much time, though. So, here's what I suggest… I'll cause a distraction and you follow me. If all goes well, we'll see what's going on before the others, and _we_ will deal with it if we have to."

Yozak shook his head "no." "I think that's a bad plan. We're supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Let me and Conrad deal with it."

"And, while you're 'dealing with it,' just who will be protecting Yuuri and Murata?" There was a know-it-all tone and a flirty tilt of the head. "After all… If you don't trust me so much, then why would you leave me alone with Yuuri and the sage with a dagger in my possession?"

The spy frowned back. He had to think…and think quick!

"Besides," Trouble said and pulled on the reins in Yozak's hands to get the horse to stop, "I gotta pee."

* * *

There was a rustling in the bushes as Yozak's horse came to a complete halt. Was that them? No. Startled, a sparrow flew out of the lush, green leaves and at the sky with breakneck speed. Trouble scanned the greenery—looking for the auras. _There! I see them._ _Yes, in that direction and closing in fast._

"They must be on horses," Trouble muttered, hoping only Yozak would hear.

The spy's eyes widened as he felt a kiss on the cheek from Wolfram's lips.

The spirit jumped down.

"What are you doing, Trouble?" Yuuri said almost hotly. He'd seen the peck on the cheek. And he didn't like the way the spirit just hopped off of Yozak's horse, either. He thought he was stressed enough—yes, "stress" was what he had to be feeling all this time—when Trouble was traveling with Yozak on his horse. Now, he felt much worse because the situation seemed to be more and more out of control with the defiant stare that he was getting at that moment from the blond crossing the road.

"Gotta go," Trouble said flippantly and strolled across the wide road for the shoulder high shrubs that lay just beyond.

"No, you're not. We're all staying _together_." The double black crossed his arms and scowled.

"No, you're not getting it. I gotta go…you know… Understand?"

Yuuri's scowl morphed into a frown. He was confused.

Trouble turned to Murata and said mockingly, "Honestly, my day husband…I must confess…" With more than a little satisfaction, the spirit could see some "roses" color those cheeks at the words "day husband." A pale hand flipped back Wolfram's hair out of his face. The spirit continued, "I have serious concerns about the viability of your monarchy considering the fact that Yuuri Heika, here, cannot grasp a concept as simplistic as this one."

"You sound like Günter," Yuuri muttered. It wasn't a complement.

Murata's glasses gleamed as he pushed them up on his face with a small nod. _Tra'va is doing it again. One minute, the tones and the words are crude and informal._ _The next minute, the words are smooth, cultured, sophisticated…_ He smiled back mildly_. I wonder if it's an act on your part…or if you simply can't help yourself for some reason…?_ With a sneaky smile coming to him, the other double black said, "I think it would clear up a lot if you spelled out what you're…_needing_ to do."

Trouble rested a hand on one hip and looked at Yuri with annoyed, bloody eyes. "Okay, Yuuri… When _'nature calls,'_ you…"

"Oh," Yuuri said, wide eyed and embarrassed. Yes, he was kind of slow on the uptake. This time, he told himself that he'd been out of it, almost brain dead, from riding his horse for so long. And, maybe, he just wanted to not think about anything that the spirit had to say…because…well…it was easier and he wouldn't be reminded that he was separated from Wolfram…or that Wolfram's lips just touched Yozak.

Trouble tucked back a strand of blond hair smugly. "Yup, so that's the thing…gotta go play 'catch the snake'… 'point Percy at the porcelain'… 'whiz'… 'piddle'… 'water a wagon wheel… Oh, and my personal favorite… 'squirt the dirt.'" Trouble smirked evilly while walking off but added, "I'll be done in a minute…since you're so determined to keep up with me." A branch was pulled back and Trouble walked on. "Hey, _King-ie_," Wolfram's voice called, "I'll be back with a description of my activities…in full, gory detail. One handed or two…? That's the mystery for you."

Yuuri sighed and hung his head. Being mad at Trava for this long was draining him. He really wanted to let go of this feeling and be happy again. No, he wanted Wolfram again. _I need him back._

Conrad guided his horse a little closer to Yuuri's and looked at his godson with understanding, brown eyes. "I think Tra'va is baiting you a _little_." He stressed "little" in a meaningful way. "You might not want to fall for it."

Yuuri nodded. "Patience? Yeah…I think you're right." He glanced at the shrubs. "But I'm going to be feeling foolish if we're standing around here and Trouble takes off."

"I'll follow," Yozak said while tossing the reins to Conrad with a winning smile. A wink followed it.

Conrad, who now held the reins for three horses, his own as well as Wolfram's and Yozak's, felt a little bit like a hitching post. A crooked smile came to him, and, at the same time, he noticed an impish look from his godson.

"I guess you have to follow your own advice about patience. Huh, Conrad?"

"That is very true."

* * *

Hands gripped and pulled.

Yozak tore back several broken tree limbs, ducked around others, and jogged a bit harder than his stiff from horseback riding legs wanted to in order to catch up with the blond. On the inside, he understood Yuuri's feelings. If Trouble was just using this to disappear, it would be a major headache to track down the oppositional and defiant spirit. But, something inside told him that he could trust Tra'va. It wasn't logical, he knew, but it was a feeling. And Yozak always went with his instincts.

There was a small clearing of trees. Wolfram's form was standing on the edge of it with his back to him.

"I tried to make my trail easy enough to track. I'm glad I did a good job."

"That you did," Yozak said, taking a look around them as he spoke.

Wolfram's hands rose in the air—feeling the wind, caressing it like a gentle lover. The spirit hummed softly—the song was sad, lonely. The hands moved again. Abruptly, the song broke.

A harsh whisper. "They're coming…almost here…"

There was a rustling of leaves and clomping hoofs. Then, feet jumping off of horses and onto soft earth.

"Better hide," Yozak said while placing a strong hand on Tra'va's shoulder, "it will buy us a little time."

A blond head shook "no." Wolfram's form began to take on a rough edge with a purple glow bleeding through on small, vapored wisps. Yozak's face went blank as he felt the shoulder heat up with a pulsing sensation. His hand dropped away, limp.

The spirit grinned at the direction the enemy would come. Quiet words came. "They're mine. And I would never dream of retreating before the enemy anyway, so…" Sharp fangs began to grow in anticipation.

"Trouble!" he whispered almost dangerously, trying to take Wolfram's hand this time. He gripped the callused hand that knew hours of swordplay only to be shocked again. It had grown blackish brown talons that narrowed down to needle-like points.

Once again, Yozak let go.

Suddenly, Tra'va tilted a blond head up at the man next to him and breathed, "Oh hell…"

"What?" His eyes widened with worry. "Are there more of them?" In a way, he almost hoped that was the case. He didn't want to admit that the transformations were getting to him—even though they were.

Wolfram's head hung low suddenly, like a puppet with strings cut. "Damn it…Yes!"

With only a shadow of relief, he said, "More of them? Over there?" Pointing to where they expected the enemy to arrive.

"Hell, no! Right there," Trouble pointed behind them only to smack a finger into the side of Yuuri's nose as he came trudging through some thick brush.

"Ouch, Trouble! What was that for?!" The double black winced as he rubbed the reddening spot.

Blond eyebrows knit together. _Now, they know that we're here. _Wolfram's mouth was a thin line. _3…2…1…_ "WHAT _THE HELL_ ARE YOU DOING?!" Trouble shouted loud enough for people in Big Cimarron to hear. "I tell you to wait and you don't! Why can't you do something so _SIMPLE_ as that?! But, no-o-o….! You won't because you're the all mighty leader!" Trouble yelled it in frustration with talons balled up in rage.

In the beginning, Yozak tried to shush Tra'va. By mid-rant, it was impossible. So, he threw up his hands and decided that he'd just face the two strangers when they got around to attacking.

"What's going on, Yozak?" Conrad asked once Trouble had finished yelling and was busy clinching and unclenching fists in a childish fantasy of throttling Yuuri.

"Well, Captain," he said with his trademark boyish tones to communicate his worry, "we seem to have been followed by two people." He gestured to the shrubs not far from where they were standing.

"We were followed?" Murata said, peeping up from behind Yuuri's shoulder.

"And thanks to our _major_ _mistake_ here," Trouble gritted out, pointing to Yuuri, "they now know… that we know…ABOUT THEM!"

An unearthly growl followed. Everyone stepped back.

_There_ _are times when I just wanna smack him_. Briefly, Trouble pictured throttling Yuuri again and then felt calmer, taking Yuuri by the collar and saying, "Better move back in case they have arrows." The spirit, with Yuuri in tow by the collar, shoved him behind a tree none too gently. Yuuri could hear the spirit grumble, "Why Wolfram loves you is beyond me."

Conrad and Yozak gave each other a brief nod to signal that it was time to get to work. Only, Trouble calmly walked in between them and kept going. A few paces later, the blond stood in the middle of a small clearing, arms crossed and toe tapping impatiently.

"Well, you two?" the spirit said in a goulish, angry voice. "I'm waiting."

Silence.

"I _said_ that I was _waiting_!"

Silence.

"Listen, fools, I'm not going to say this again. Come out here…or I'll begin to question your honor as well as your manhood."

"Ouch, that was harsh," Murata said, hiding next to Yuuri behind the tree.

Green leaves shook hard. Then, the shrubs leaned heavily to the left as two men, dressed in dark green hooded robes, entered the clearing.

Both moving as one, they extended their palms out flat--allowing the stones in their hands to glow with a deepening, red color. The light from the sky filtered in through the tree branches. The sunbeams hit the ruby colored stones, charging them with sunlight as they streaked down. The pair gripped tightly and then held the stones before them, almost as in prayer. Thin strands of light, like strings, wrapped the rocks to the masculine palms. Then, they pulled their hands back, parallel. A deep rumble followed, power building and charging.

"Hand over the sword. Now!"

Wolfram's toe tapped impatiently again. The face wore an expression of "You really are that stupid, aren't you?" If Yuuri hadn't been so concerned for Wolfram's body and Trouble's welfare, he would have almost been amused by it—almost.

"Okay, geniuses… And, exactly which 'sword' are you talking about? Obviously, we have more than one here…oh, frightening bandits in green hoodie pajamas…" The tone was dripping with sarcasm. Yuuri liked it, he decided. He took a step away from the tree.

"That one," the first said, pointing to Morgif.

The sword howled with protest at the strangers. Yuuri looked down and waved a hand—trying to shush him.

"Morgif?" Trouble squeaked incredulously, he turned around to Yuuri, stormed in the double black's direction, and shoved him behind the tree again before returning with a self-important swagger. "Morgif? The moaning sword of the demons? He doesn't _do anything._ All he does is moan like he's got a case of the runs in a public toilet." The spirit made a face like eating a mouthful of sauerkraut.

Morgif moaned a retort that went largely unnoticed.

The spirit shrugged it off. "Boy, you have bad taste. Do you want a sword stolen from the Warrior of Lütenburg?" Pointing to Yozak—who wasn't sure if he should be happy that the spirit just revealed his true identity just to brag about him.

There was a Wolframish smirk. "Obviously not." Arms folded as Trouble went on, "Do you want the sword of The Lion of Lütenberg?" There was a sweeping gesture towards Conrad. Red eyes narrowed at the strangers. "Nope again!" There was more sarcasm and an incredulous shake of the head that followed. "Wait! Wait! How about the sage? He's got a sword, too. Want it?" Now, there was a sexy smirk. "Maybe, I'll get my hands on it first…"

"Trouble!" Yuuri hissed from behind the tree.

"Jealous," the spirit said and stuck a pink tongue at the double black while Murata chuckled darkly.

The red crystals powered up as an answer. Everybody backed off except Trouble.

"Hand it over or else! Just drop the sword and back away." the second man said as he shot a bolt of red energy into the sky as a warning shot. The blast clipped a high tree branch. It fell delicately with a rushing sound as it hit larger branches below and became entangled.

Red eyes turned bloody dangerous.

"That's cheating!" The spirit turned to everyone standing behind, fully expecting to be backed up on this point. "They can't just do that." A blond head was whipped back to the strangers and then it was cocked angrily to one side with eyes wide. "If you've got powers, use them! Don't rely on toys."

There was another red blast—the warning shot went into the ground near Wolfram's feet that time.

"Tra'va," Murata said, his voice had a commanding ring to it. He knew of the spirit's attachment to him, and he decided it was time to take advantage of it. "I think you'd better…"

He was answered with a toss of the head and a rosey-eyed wink. The head turned forward once again, but Murata was still uncertain.

The thieves shifted the angle of the stones by repositioning their hands. The next blast would hit Wolfram's body for sure.

The stones powered up again.

Underneath green hoods, the men smiled to themselves.

Yuuri shouted out loud as a red burst traveled in their direction. Conrad and Yozak had already pushed Yuuri and the sage down to the ground, praying that Trouble had managed to duck, too.

"Wolfram," Conrad breathed with deep concern. Yuuri was still under him. It was a choice he had to make and he made it. But it didn't sit well with him. What if Trouble had been hit and Wolfram injured? Or worse…? How would he explain that to everyone?

They looked up to see Trouble still standing. There was a huge, purple shield spread out before him. On the opaque shield, there was a bright mark where the energy had blasted against it. Then the barrier faded from view, but the impression in the dirt shifted slightly—telling Murata, at least, that the barrier was still there.

Hands on hips, Tra'va took another step forward. The impression in the dirt moved forward, too, and bent back blades of tall grass.

The second thief whispered in shock, "Blocked? But…we sent out the holy light."

The spirit said sarcastically, "Oi, can you do that out your ass? I bet cha can't."

"Trouble!" Yuuri hissed, crawling out from under Conrad. "Now is not the time!"

"Not rectally possible, huh?" Tra'va shrugged with a crooked grin but added "spoil sport" in Yuuri's direction.

"My first instinct is to use fire, but… 'Mr. Nobody-dies-today-because-I'm-the-maou' would be whining for the rest of this trip, so..." Trouble turned around and formed a large, purple and black sphere in the right hand. With graceful hand movements, the spirit reached into the glowing ball to split the sphere into two, and then, with much effort, hurled both forward.

The gusts of wind were harsh and almost knocked both men off of their feet. But, still, they struggled. The hoods were blown back and their faces revealed. They were, indeed, human.

"Humans! _I KNEW IT!_" the spirit roared, feral desires filled every word. The bloodthirsty sounds came through the inhales and exhales—reverberating, and growing stronger. "Your kind have been causing my tribe problems for centuries." The blond walked forward, almost stalking prey. Pale hands with taloned fingers pointed at the men.

Yuuri blinked at that. "Murata? Did you know…his hands…the nails?"

"No," the sage whispered back incredulously, "but, maybe, I should have thought about it."

And, with a sweeping gesture from right to left, both thieves were shoved onto their backs, hard against the ground. "You hunted my people, with houjutsu toys like these, for the most frivolous of reasons. And it was your fault that we had to escape—all of us—to the Fire Island southeast of here."

Murata listened and readjusted his glasses. "That confirms it."

"Sorry?" Yuuri said, looking at him distractedly.

"Nothing," Murata murmured with an impish grin. He turned his attention to Trouble—who was leering over them with a fang dripping saliva.

The two humans looked terrified, staring up with mouths gaping open.

Murata coughed politely to get the spirit's attention. "I think we should take their 'toys,' if you please, Tra'va?"

"But," the spirit said, feeling angry and more than justified for being so.

"Tra'va…" There was an admonishing tone. "Search Wolfram's heart and learn how we handle these situations."

The spirit looked almost imploringly at Murata. When he didn't give in an inch, Tra'va fisted taloned hands, and growled, "I suppose…you give me no choice." Then, the spirit knelt down next to the men with a little fang still hanging out. Sharp, brown fingernails tore the stones from the humans' hands. "You are most fortunate that my daytime husband is so merciful. I can deny him nothing."

Yuuri, hearing this, blushed bright red down past his neck and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "Sheesh… Did you have to phrase it that way?"

"I don't mind," Murata said, almost a purr as the ruby colored stones were tossed to him.

"Oh, and speaking of 'husbands,'" Trouble said. The spirit stood up and turned to Yozak with, dusty rose eyes and hands clasped together with a pleading, almost childish, gesture. "Can I please have something?" Eyelashes batted sweetly.

"Ummm…what do you need, Trouble?" This was sudden—a little too sudden—and a bit awkward in front of Conrad for some reason that he didn't want to analyze. His face showed nervousness.

"I need you to get me a coil of rope, two apples, and your least favorite shade of lipstick." Wobbly eyes followed. "Wolfram knows that you probably have some makeup with you. So, can I have the lipstick? _Please…_?"

"Oh…Trouble…" Yuuri said under his breath, feeling very uncomfortable with the direction that the scene was now taking.

Yuuri's tone convinced him to go for it. "Sure, I'll be right back." Yozak flashed Conrad a quick, reassuring grin that he truly didn't feel and headed back to the horses.

Conrad rubbed his chin in thought.

* * *

Five minutes later, Trouble had the items requested and approached the two humans with a dangerous, but almost gleeful, leer. The men were both tied with rope to opposite sides of the same oak tree. They were standing with their stomachs pressed against the bark of the trunk. Their faces were turned to the side so that they could glare back—which they did.

"What cha gonna do?" the first human griped. At the moment, his sweaty hair was dangling to one side of his head like matted, brown seaweed from struggling against Yozak who had gotten him into position. The thirty-something year old had white skin, muddy brown irises that seemed to bleed the murky color into the whites, and slash scars on his cheek. He was proud that he had resisted the orange haired man even if it meant that he now had a leaf caught in his hair, sticking out like a cat's ear, waving in the breeze.

Trouble got a defiant glare from the other human, too. The second man, a smaller version of his companion with acne scars and crooked teeth, shouted in agreement. "Go ahead, monster! You're worse than those demons! Freak of nature!" He spat at the ground, but the spirit didn't move.

The first man struggled against his bonds and said, "Go ahead…Shoot us with our own holy light. To be killed by those rocks is an honor for revolutionaries like us…" Referring to the red stones that were now in Murata's hands. Murata stopped his examination to raise a black eyebrow in his direction. Then, he turned his face a little to smirk at Trouble, who returned the sneaky look.

"Yeah!" said the second human. "Kill us! Do it!"

Trouble shook a blond head 'no."

"That's not what I want from you at all!" the spirit said in almost a sing-songy way while shoving an apple into each mouth. "Now, you bite those…_or I'll bite you_…"

Red eyes flashed. Fangs bared and lunged at them.

As brave as the men pretended to be, they decided that Trouble would be true to that statement—leaving them chewed up and facing a long, lingering death. So, they bit down on the fruit.

The spirit removed the dagger from Wolfram's boot and looked at the pretty rosewood handle. The carving was beautiful. It had been made by a true craftsman. _Too bad I can't keep this…_

"Trouble?!" Yuuri said with disapproval. His body tensed, just watching Trouble's strange attraction to the blade that he didn't even know Wolfram had.

Red eyes narrowed into slits. "Oh, kiss my snowy white butt, why don't you?" The spirit went to the first human, took the knife and began to cut the green robe, the shirt, and then the pants right off of him—leaving a pile of rags on the grass.

"Trouble?!" Yuuri squeaked. He got the "shut up" death glare and decided to hold his tongue.

The other human looked at Trouble with wide, terrified eyes. He would have shouted "No!" but his mouth was full of apple. And, for some reason that his mind could not comprehend, he couldn't open his jaws to let the fruit go, either. He was, however, able to mutter pathetic little screams in his throat—not that it changed anything.

In minutes, both men were standing there, blushing furiously while tied to a tree…wearing nothing but black G-strings.

The spirit grabbed the G-strings, pulled back, and let them snap like rubber bands.

There was an awkward shuffling of feet all around the tree.

Trouble put hands on the humans' foreheads and a purplish-black glow began to form. The spirit's eyes changed color, too—a shade of lilac that darkened slowly as the seconds ticked away. "You followed us but couldn't find us in the woods…" Trouble said to the men in an almost human voice. "You've decided that it's not worth the effort to follow. So, sleep now and wake up when your butts get cold."

Then Trouble let them go and stepped away from the tree.

"So, they really believe that story now?" Yuuri asked.

"Yes…" Then a sudden wicked grin came with the toss of a silver tube in the air. It tumbled three times before Wolfram's hand caught it and pulled the cap off. "Oh… I almost forgot…" Trouble went back to the men while applying the lipstick. First the lower lip and then the upper one. They were perfectly shaped, sexy lips wearing a lovely shade of "Juicy Apricot Nights." Wolfram's lips rolled with slick, sensuous movements. Uncomfortable, Yuuri had to look away for a second. His heart was beating hard.

Trouble tore at blond hair with shrinking talons—getting several broken strands. Then, the pieces of hair were tucked into the side of the G-string of the second human.

"Eh?" Yuuri's mind couldn't process it.

He got a low, sexy snicker from the spirit.

Much to Yuuri's continued horror, Tra'va began kissing the little man on the cheek very, very slowly—leaving huge prints.

Stepping back and admiring the work, Wolfram's voice said clearly, "That should do it." Placing a hand on the first human one last time, Trouble said, "Oh and by the way…the two of you are dating and he's cheating on you. You might wanna kick his ass hard."

And, with that, the spirit gave a sheepish shrug to the group and walked back to them. The steps were jaunty.

"I'm impressed, Trouble," Yuuri said. "I really thought you were going to kill them."

"I wanted to," the spirit said while rubbing the last of the lipstick off on the back of his hand. The victory "strut" turned into a slow paced stroll. "But, it wouldn't change anything, really."

Yuuri smiled at that a little. This was the first serious and honest statement that the spirit had given him. And he liked it. Then, he noticed that Trouble didn't go back to the road but was veering off to the right.

"Trouble?" Yuuri called, "The road is back that way." He pointed.

Tra'va stopped suddenly in front of a bush and began to unhitch Wolfram's trousers with a little effort. "I know that, but I still gotta go. I've got a full bladder now."

"Eh?" Yuuri said.

"Well, you drink all that cider and see what happens to you…right? I gotta go so bad my back teeth are floating." Rummaging around inside the pants, the spirit said, "Let's see if I can remember how this thing's supposed to work."

The pants lowered, showing a white tushie to the group.

"Ewww!! Trouble!"

"Wha?" Tra'va said, looking around right and left, "What'd I do this time?"

"Just…Just... Nothing! But _look_ where you're _going_!" Yuuri griped, turning on his heel with disgust and stomping away.

"Finally, he gives me some _good_ advice… Oh…Look, a beetle…! I wonder if I can hit it…?" ...'splosh'... "Now, it's a water bug…"

…snickers…

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

.

Trouble emerged from the bushes, tugging up on trousers that were already well fastened. It was another way of pulling on Yuuri's chain. And, by the looks of it, it worked. Yuuri's annoyed glare, which was quickly becoming a permanent fixture on his face, spoke volumes. He turned his head away with a "humph."

Trouble smiled impishly and went for Wolfram's white steed, taking the rains from Conrad with a slight bow.

"Well, it looks like someone around here gets respect from Tra'va," Yozak said with an approving smile.

"Of course," the spirit said, swinging a leg over and getting comfortable in the brown leather saddle. "He is the strongest warrior here…and the most loyal." Eyes fading from red to a dusty rose glanced at Conrad before settling on the road before them. _And, forgive me, but… when I look at you, I see someone else. After all this time, I still miss him…a little too much…_

Trouble urged the white steed forward and it obeyed without question.

They rode on in silence for another half hour—the road now cutting through a thick patch of forest with trees standing close like soldiers. Trouble would stop intermittently and listen to the rustle of leaves or caress the wind. It felt good on Wolfram's skin—velvety bands of the breeze softly brushing against him, leaving a cool touch behind.

A sudden gust blew across their path. Brown leaves from the road tossed up into the air and fell like confetti.

"Whoa!" Red eyes shot open in alarm. The horse reared. Trouble pulled back on the reins hard and fought to steady the horse underneath.

"Trouble?!" Yozak called, urging his horse forward.

Trouble struggled—fisting the reins, pulling back again, and refusing to be bucked off when it came back down on all fours only to kick up the hind legs into the air. The struggles with the mount continued and the spirit held on. Finally, the horse felt winded and settled down, but looked wildly at the road before them, still afraid…still searching. The spirit, feeling Wolfram's heart beating hard, tried to push everything aside even though a sudden light headedness was coming. Trouble leaned over, spoke soft words to the steed, and scratched him between the ears as Yozak came up along side.

"Are you okay?" the spy asked. He got a nod as a response.

Murata, who had been riding next to Yuuri at that point, found himself suddenly shivering.

Yuuri tore his eyes from Trouble and turned to the other double black. "Are you okay?" Yuuri asked him, eyes a little concerned.

"Yes, I don't know why I did that," Murata said, slightly embarrassed.

"I felt it, too…and so did my horse," Tra'va said without turning back. The steed got another gentle pat on the neck. "But it was just a spirit journeying past." Trouble nudged the horse forwards. And they began again, but it took more assurance from Trouble before the horse finally worked into a comfortable rhythm of trotting on the dirt road.

"A spirit… Really?" Yuuri mumbled, having a hard time believing a wayward spirit would be roaming the forest in the daytime. It just had to be a gust of air. Besides, one spirit in Yuuri's company was enough.

"But she's in visitation," Tra'va added with very little real interest in the subject. "So, once she visits her relatives, to watch over them, she'll go back to the heavenly realm."

Yuuri thought about it for a second and then asked, "So, what does that make you?"

Murata muttered "ouch" under his breath and smacked his hand over his face. Yuuri scratched his head in confusion—only understanding that he'd said something either incredibly insensitive or incredibly stupid—probably both.

There was a sudden angry, red-eyed glare in Yuuri's direction. Wolfram's face seemed to stare at him with that all too familiar look of anger mixed with pain. Having enough, the blond head whipped back around. "I'm a _grounded_ spirit. I can't move beyond my earthly boundaries or cross water without a host."

"A host?" Yuuri's black eyes blinked at that.

"That means 'Wolfram'." Murata muttered it as a quiet groan. His friend could really be dense sometimes.

"A host…vessel…crib…receptacle…container…" It was followed by a weak shrug. Tra'va's empty stare didn't stray from the road.

Yuuri frowned at that. "Wolfram isn't an empty box for you to fill." He had to work hard not to clinch his jaw at the thought. "And, while we're on the subject… You could have ASKED one of us to volunteer, Trouble." With each passing second, he found himself getting angrier and angrier. This had been building up for awhile now. "You just took what you wanted. And, now, look where we are!"

The response was an angry, contemptuous Wolframish laugh laced with an animalistic growl. "I will admit that I stayed too long at Blood Pledge Castle as one of the ghosts because I liked it there. But I knew that, after twenty years, I would have to continue my journey or fade away to nothing. So, yes, I was a little desperate to find a new host." Another bitter chuckle followed at the memory of all the chaos that happened and how they all met at the old well. "I almost chose the maid, you know. Her soul was bright, fiery…strong…"

"And that would be…?" Murata asked because he wasn't there.

"Sangria," Conrad said, remembering the confusion and the shocking image of Wolfram in Shadowman's arms.

"But, then, Wolfram came…and I found someone like me…a fire wielder with a bright soul…covered with scars…"

"Scars?" Yuuri said incredulously. "But, I've seen him in the bath. He doesn't have scars all over him."

"Just curious, Yuuri," Tra'va said turning the blond head to look at him. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

"Of course not!" the double black said with revolution. His eyebrows pushed together.

"Well, everyone else here has," the spirit said matter-of-factly.

Conrad and Yozak tossed glances at Murata, who could only nod in agreement. Even though his present body and life had no experience, he had the memories of past lives—many had seen too many battlefields, including the Original Great Sage.

The spirit went on. "And that includes me… When I was alive, our village was raided by a gang of humans who thought attacking at night was an easy job. What do the humans call it? 'Stab and grab?' I killed the man who broke into my home and pressed a sword against my chest." Red eyes locked with jet black ones. "I set him on fire and watched him burn."

Yuuri cringed openly and turned his head to the side.

"Thanks a whole hell-of-a lot, Yuuri…" _I was terrified at the time. I should have known better than to expect sympathy from you. _"I know it all sounds pointless now that I'm dead and the centuries have passed—now that my punishment is to visit every holy shrine and every piece of holy ground in Shin Makoku. And if killing that human had been the reason why I have to go through this journey…it would have been worth it. But, of course, it isn't…and it's not." Then, Tra'va laughed a little with contempt. "But, I'm straying from my original point in bringing this all up." As pissed off as Trouble was, Wolfram's body began to slump a little in the saddle. Yozak noticed it and made sure that his horse rode as close to the spirit's as possible in case he was needed.

"My point is that I see the soul before I see the body that owns it. I chose Wolfram for a reason. And, most definitely, _I did not_ steal his body."

"Then," Murata said with a finger pushing back his glasses, "you made a deal with Wolfram _to borrow_ his body."

"A contract." It was followed by an impatient hiss at the Demon King.

"I'd like to see proof of that," Yuuri said giving the back of Wolfram's head a steely glare. Tra'va didn't notice it-watching the road instead.

"Now, Shibuya, that's not like you…to be so judgmental so quickly. It sounds more like you in 'maou mode' than your ordinary self." A smile followed. Murata enjoyed his little critique of Yuuri.

Red eyes narrowed into slits as the head and shoulders turned back in Yuuri's direction. "I suppose, it doesn't matter if you accept my explanation or not. Once you have Wolfram back, you'll know that everything I'm saying is the truth." With a quiet sigh that Yozak could hear, the spirit turned to face forward once more. The body rocked a bit with each step that the horse took. Tra'va had to admit, fatigue was setting in, and Yuuri wasn't making it any better.

_I used up too much energy fighting those humans back there. I needed to conserve my strength instead of play. How much time do I have left in this body, I wonder?_

"Pear?" Yozak asked, suddenly offering the polished fruit that he'd gotten from his saddlebag.

Eyes sparkled at it with appreciation.

"Thank you!" Tra'va practically gushed, taking the fruit with the left hand and suddenly seizing upon it with small dagger-like canines. The spy's sky blue eyes widened as he watched the fangs digging in. They helped break up the fruit, and then—as was normal for that race—the fruit pieces were smashed up on the roof of the mouth—making a pulp before chewing and swallowing. Pear juice dripped down to the chin. The back of Wolfram's hand wiped away the juice only to have a pink tongue lick at it leisurely. More juice flowed and Wolfram's mouth was sucking glistening juice, oh so slowly, from slick fingers. The sexy little moans were back.

From behind, Yuuri saw it all—not sure if he should be embarrassed by the shameless display or revolted by it. Most Japanese considered finger and hand licking disgusting. The double black just shook his head and tried not to say anything. Barbaric eating, which was not the way Wolfram ate even when he was sick, was perfectly normal for someone like Trouble. And, not surprisingly anymore, Yuuri felt more distant from Wolfram than ever before. Even with this group of friends around him, he felt lonely. And, in the back of his mind, he wondered what kind of deal Wolfram and Trouble had made to form this arrangement. Surely, Wolfram had to have been tricked by Trouble into agreeing to this because failure to get to the holy site meant death. _I'll find out what it is,_ Yuuri thought_, and I'll find out why Wolfram would do such a thing._

The glowing core of a well-gnawed pear was broken in half and flung into the bushes. The leaves rustled briefly.

"Grow into trees," the spirit said with an unusual lilt in the voice.

"You like trees, don't you?" Conrad asked from behind, slightly amused.

"Yes," the spirit said with a soft smile, remembering the past. "My clan group had an orchard. I picked fruit a lot as a child." Then, pinkish eyes glanced back at the place where the core was thrown. "I placed a little of my magic on that core. There should be some beautiful trees in a few years."

Trouble took a slow breath and let it out. The fatigue was slowly overtaking Wolfram's body and the spirit knew it. _But it was just a little magic that I parted with. And the trees will be worth it. I wonder who will eat the fruit? Maybe I will, in another twenty years, when I walk this way again…alone._

Another gust of wind.

The spirit stopped, chin turned to the sky.

Looks were exchanged. Was this another spirit crossing their path?

Nothing. There was nothing in Wolfram's eyes but a distant stare—eyes focused on something miles away.

"Trouble?" Yuuri said, his horse drawing near.

A deep rumbling sound came from underneath them and the ground trembled slightly.

The white horse tensed up again and, with a flash of white light, became immobilized—the tail's hair, in a swish, had frozen in place. All of the other horses instinctually backed away from the energy, but Yuuri urged his forward. _I need to be with Wolfram._

Wolfram's body began to glow with a faint purple light. His blond hair blew around his face as though walking in a gale. The clothing rippled against his body, tugged by a windy force that only he could feel.

As if on cue, Morgif moaned—harmonizing with the rumbling sounds that the spirit made. The double black's first instinct was to shush him.

Red eyes shot open and Yuuri, wanting to be as close as possible to Wolfram's side, jumped at that.

The purple haze dissipated and Wolfram's body slumped forward, leaning against the horse's head.

"Oi!," Yozak said, riding his mount forward—and then leaning across and giving Trouble's shoulder a shake.

"A storm's coming," the spirit said, feeling more fatigued than ever before. "I felt it on the breeze, but needed to check for sure." Tiredly, Trouble raked fingers through a blond mop of hair. "And that storm's going to be pretty bad. I think where ever we have dinner, we need to bunk for the night. Just stay there—no camping out—because this storm is going to be a strong one." Then red eyes turned to Yuuri with a tired but impish glint. "Well, actually, I'll enjoy it because I could use the energy. You, on the other hand, could be struck by lightning and killed. So, it would be better to find a place to sleep and let the storm pass."

Forcing a smile, Trouble turned to Yozak and said, "So, my night-time husband, why don't you show us the way to a warm meal and, maybe, an even warmer bed?" It was followed by a wink.

With a slightly embarrassed chuckle and a quick glace to Conrad to see if it was okay, he pushed forward and the rest followed. "There's a town not too far from here that has a tavern and some rooms for rent upstairs. If we're lucky, we can get the converted attic. They have three beds up there that they usually rent to troops passing through."

"Good to know," Murata said in a jovial tone.

* * *

It was dinnertime at the White Lion. Sitting at a rustic wooden table that had water rings, scratch marks, and deep green stains that even the Great Sage didn't want to know the origins of, the little group waited for the server to bring them their orders.

In one corner of the room stood the bar with several wooden barrels of wine stacked off to the side that the barkeep kept handy. The local spiced wine which was made with cloves, cinnamon, orange peel, vanilla, and juniper was a specialty. And they'd go through a lot of it in a single night. And, the other side was packed with tables, people, lots of drinks, and pub food—all heavily laced with salt to make the customers want to drink more.

With a wrinkled nose of disapproval, the server—a young man with short, blue-green hair and eyes to match—put down a bowl of fruit in front of Trouble the way someone would slop a hog. The bowl consisted of one apple, one peach, and some green grapes all nestled together. A flagon of cider followed, sloshing onto the table carelessly. The rest of them ordered the small meat pies and spiced wine.

Trouble glared up at the man and ran a finger up the flagon's dripping side. It just so happened to be _the middle finger_. With a defiant stare in the eyes, Wolfram's mouth sucked on said finger a little longer than necessary.

The server gave the red eyed spirit a nasty look. "Anything else?" he said to the table, but kept his eyes on Trouble. He didn't like the snobby "pretty blond _boy"_ sitting before him. Someone with eyes as red and ugly as that certainly didn't deserve, in his humble opinion, to be getting this much attention—even if the rest of his body was almost that of a perfect angel. The server rolled his eyes when he caught the glances of just about everyone at the table watching "blondie" and it didn't seem fair, not fair at all. Not only that, but the guy wouldn't eat a bite of the meat pie, a specialty of the house, that was offered to him. No… He had to have fruit and cider. _Whatta wuss _he thought as he watched the spirit drain half of the flagon.

"I can get you another cup of…_cider_," he added to Trouble with a nasty edge.

Trouble covered a belch that ended up becoming a deep throated growl.

"No thanks! But it was very kind of you to offer," Murata said cheerfully, trying to talk over the spirit's threatening sounds so that they wouldn't draw undue attention. At the same time, he was confused as to why the son of the owner would take such a sudden dislike to a relatively well behaved "Trouble." Since they were staying the night, he would definitely have to keep a closer eye on the spirit. They didn't need to have more problems tonight with the storm coming and no where else to stay.

Yuuri squirmed a little in his seat, pretending not to have witnessed the friction between Trouble and the server. Instead of dealing with it, he decided to mind his own business. He started up a conversation with Conrad.

"Fine, then," the server grumbled.

As the young man walked away, wiping his hands on his thin black apron, the sage's eyes opened wide as he saw Trouble spit a spark into Wolfram's palm and then flick the burning flame onto the back of the man's neck. Making a quick, burning hiss as it died. "Ouch!" the young man said, swatting at the sting.

Trouble smirked darkly and turned to the window.

"Sorry, Heika," Conrad said, taking a sip of Yuuri's wine. "We can't be too careful with what you eat or drink."

"That's 'Yuuri,' because you named me. Right, Conrad?" The tone was goodie-two-shoes cheerful.

With an elbow on the table and a cheek in one hand, Trouble's pinkish-red eyes moved past Yozak's profile and continued to stare out the window. Wolfram had heard this "Call me Yuuri, not Heika" script too many times. And, even the memory of it was frightfully boring to Trouble. A purple fingernailed hand reached into the bowl. Without looking, Tra'va bit down. Sharp fangs tore into the peach.

The dark clouds gathered outside, threatening to rain.

The spirit felt drawn to it. Something powerful yet to be. The smell of rain and the feeling of energy, almost like static, spreading out. To touch it. To simply reach out and do that much was tempting. But, of course, that would be impossible in Wolfram's body. He would die.

"Trouble?" Yozak said.

"Hm?"

"I just asked if you liked your dinner. Was it good?"

"Oh," the spirit said, looking down at the empty bowl with mild surprise. "It was." Then, Wolfram's body leaned in closer, whispering a quiet "thank you for the meal" in his ear. One hand rested lightly on a thick, meaty shoulder.

Lightning flashed out the window and Tra'va's eyes were instantly drawn to it. It was beautiful—nature's fireworks. Bright and powerful. Pure energy being released. Feeling better, the spirit sat up a little bit straighter. The hand dropped from Yozak and hung loosely down.

"Well, you're unusually quiet," Yuuri observed, suspicion nagging at him.

Lightning flashed against the window this time, lighting up the spirit's face. Across the table, Murata jerked at the thunder rolling practically overhead as did the rest of the patrons. Some of whom, with a bit of eagerness, decided that it was high time to pay up and leave for home before a downpour started.

Trouble only brightened. "I think I'll head up to our room." The spirit stood up from the chair and the dull sound of wood scraping against a tacky, half mopped floor came to them.

Yuuri put down his spork and glanced up with determination. "I think I'll join you."

The spirit rested hands on hips with a slight frown. _Here we go again_. "That's fine, Yuuri," Tra'va said and then turned to Yozak. "Come to bed when you can, night-time husband." Yozak got another kiss on the cheek on front of the whole restaurant—which was a surprise to nobody because it wasn't unusual at all. Yuuri blushed bright red, feeling really annoyed—at Yozak, the blond, and the whole room—for reasons he didn't want to identify. Meanwhile, Yozak had briefly flushed a pinkish color while locking eyes with Conrad who was sitting across the table from him, forcing his face to be perfectly still. In fact, Conrad had to hold his breath to keep from laughing out loud.

* * *

Thanks to a few silver coins in the landlord's hand, Yozak had managed to rent the whole converted attic room on the top floor. The bedroom was long with angled walls that came to a point overhead. There were three full sized beds, all in line, with nightstands between them. Extra blankets were folded neatly and tucked away in the only closet which was a dull looking rectangular box near the door. The curtains were white and thin. They barely covered the single, oversized window that opened inwardly. The rest of the room was drab and drafty—making the candle on the center nightstand flicker and dance.

Having stored Morgif under the bed, where he would be attacked by merciless bands of grey dustbunnies all night, Yuuri reached over to the corner and found his things. Yuuri put his pack on the middle bed, opened it, and started rummaging around for his favorite blue pajamas. With only the light of one candle, Yuuri contemplated lighting another. The room was dimly lit and finding his pajamas a bit of a chore. He glanced up to see a very beautiful silhouette at the window—pulling back the curtain with a slow, determined motion. The curtain's rings slid on the rod with a sharp, metallic sound.

A thin finger of lightning pointed to the east. Wolfram's face lit up slightly with it while the rest of the body, standing casually with arms folded against the window frame, remained in darkness.

Yuuri thought back. _It was only a few nights ago. But, now, it feels like it has been forever._

"Wolfram?"

"Hm?" the blond said, lowering the book that he had been reading since after dinner. He rested it in his lap.

"Umm… I was just thinking," Yuuri said casually, turning his back to the blond and removing his clothes to put on his pajamas. "Do you have to sleep in here tonight?"

"Why?" Wolfram asked darkly, putting the book on the bed next to him. He sat up a little and the stare quickly turned into a glare.

Turning to see Wolfram's reaction, he noticed the look on his accidental fiancé's face. There was anger there and determination mixed with a bit of hurt. No, not just a bit. As the moments ticked by, he realized that there was a whole lot of it. It was the same look that he got during dinner, too. Yuuri turned back awkwardly and continued to hastily button up his pajama top. "I mean… You really should have your own place to sleep. And…I'd…well…prefer it…"

"WHAT?!" Wolfram bellowed.

Yuuri turned around in time to catch the red book that was flung in his direction. Yuuri's house shoes and every pillow on the bed followed.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri thundered back. "I'd just like to have my own space at the end of the day!" He ducked again. This time, he had no idea what just flew by. He didn't care to look, either.

"WIMP!" Wolfram fumed. In seconds, he was almost upon the double black before his mind could register it. How could he move that fast? "Just tell me, damn it!"

"What?" Yuuri said, cowering a little with his hands out in front of him defensively. "I was just being honest, Wolfram. Sheesh!"

Emerald eyes bore into him. They were glassy with tears. "You are many things, Yuuri. But, 'honest' isn't one of them."

With that, Wolfram flung his arms out—sending out streamers of pure flame. In seconds, every candle was burning with an eerie brightness, sending melted wax pouring down the sides.

Between gritted teeth, Wolfram said, "I can't believe I trusted you."

Yuuri remembered the door slamming shut and the sound of feet running away. Wolfram avoided him after that. At the time, he felt Wolfram had overreacted. He needed some time to calm down. That was all. But, now, Yuuri wished he knew the reason why the blond had behaved that way. It wasn't like him.

The double black looked at Trouble and frowned. Yes, Wolfram could be immature at times. Still, Wolfram's antics were preferable to Tra'va's crudeness and impossible to accept ways.

The silhouette at the window watched the patch of sky with the brightest lightning—stroking the glass with a finger absentmindedly, making the pattern of a lazy eight, the symbol for infinity.

_Wolfram,_ Yuuri thought, _we'll get you back. Just be patient._

"I'm getting ready for bed," Yuuri said flatly. He was drawing the string to his pajama bottoms as he spoke.

"Me, too," Tra'va said. "This body is starting to tire." With lethargic movements, the blond head lolled to one side as the spirit began to strip down—the clothes hitting the floor.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Yuuri said incredulously.

"Well, I'm not sleeping in these. They're dusty," the spirit grumbled, dropping the trousers and bearing it all to Yuuri. The flickering candle on Yuuri's nightstand only added to Wolfram's firmly lined look. Even though he'd bathed with Wolfram many times over the past few years, he could feel a blush coming on—a deep one.

Oblivious, Trouble stepped out of the trousers, picked the clothing up, and tossed it all onto the wooden chair next to the bed by the window. Wolfram was wearing nothing but a black G-string now and looking quite toothsome in just that when bending over and picking up clothes.

Yuuri covered his eyes with his hand briefly, then turned back to his pack. "Here," he said after rummaging around in the bag, "put this on."

A white ball of material flew at the spirit. It was caught and then examined by reddish eyes. "And this is?"

"It's called 'boxers.' Sleep in it."

Pale shoulders shrugged. "Fine," Tra'va said and stepped into them.

_Great,_ Yuuri thought as he pulled the covers back_, he's wearing two sets of underwear. Oh, well… But he could have at least said "Thank you."_

There was a brief knock. Murata, Yozak, and Conrad all entered to see an annoyed Yuuri already sitting in one bed with the blankets tucked around him and arms folded against his chest. Tra'va, who had just closed the curtains, was walking toward the center of the room wearing nothing but white boxers and black socks.

Even though it wasn't the usual frilly pink nightgown, Wolfram's body looked cute. Murata snickered. "Getting ready for bed, Tra'va?"

"Yuuri told me to. He gave me this ' ba-ku-za-zu' to wear." Fingers tugged the waistband of the boxers. "Apparently, sleeping in the black underwear alone," and the spirit grabbed the waistband again, pulled it down enough to show a creamy hip with a black G-string strap, and popping it against white skin, "was not acceptable."

Murata shot Yuuri an impish smirk. "Miss the nightgown, Yuuri?" The answer was a deep frown. Turning back to the spirit, Murata said, "I think you would have been fine in just the G-string."

"See?" the spirit said to Yuuri, who ignored them both and turned away.

Approaching the trio, Tra'va said, "Now that you're here, I do need a bit of help, though."

The three men exchanged looks curiously.

"I'm not comfortable."

"Well, considering the fact that you're wearing two sets of underwear," Murata said, giving a devious, toothy grin to Yuuri—who was watching them but feigning disinterest.

"Actually, it's not like that," the spirit said with a bit of embarrassment that didn't seem like Trouble's style at all.

"What then?" Yozak asked, eyes showing a little concern.

Tra'va went back to the clothes on the chair and returned with the small blade that Wolfram owned. "I need this."

"No," Yozak returned with a stern tone that spoke volumes to the spirit. He would not back down on this point. A wide and callused hand gripped Wolfram's shoulder hard. "We've discussed this before and I'm not…"

"I'm not asking that," the spirit said, cutting him off but having to struggle with the grin that was coming. "It's not what you and I discussed before."

"Okay, I'm officially confused," Murata said.

Tra'va's face went blank for a second, searching Wolfram's heart. "Then, Yozak would be the one to understand," the spirit mumbled quietly. Tra'va looked to Yozak, who was still clutching the narrow shoulder, and said, "Do you know what it's like at the end of the day and your bra is kind of curling under and it feels like it's cutting you in half? And you've gotta get out of the damn thing before you go out of your mind?"

Not surprisingly, Yozak nodded.

"What?!" Yuuri blurted out from the bed.

"Well, it feels like that now…only…kind of not," the spirit muttered, wrapping arms around a lithe body. "So, can you help me, please?" Eyelashes batted.

"Oh, I can't believe this!" Yuuri growled and flopped over in the bed. He pulled the covers over his head for good measure. This conversation was just too stupid.

"What do you want me to do?"

Tra'va handed him the blade, turned to Murata, and pressed hands against the sage's shoulders to remain steady. Seeing that they were close, very close, a sexy smile came to Wolfram's face. Murata noticed it, too. And his heart beat a little harder. Tra'va sensed it and rubbed thumbs against him with a motion no one else picked up on.

Looking back, Trouble said, "See those lines on my back? Just score the skin and I can do the rest."

"Score the skin?" Murata said, shocked. His warm fuzzy feelings gone in a flash. It got Yuuri's attention, too. The covers flew away from his face. He looked up at them, afraid.

"I could do it without the scoring, but I don't want to hurt Wolfram." The eyes faded from red to pink in Conrad's direction. "You care about Wolfram the most," Tra'va added. "So, tell me… Shouldn't I be gentle?"

Conrad frowned but gave a nod at Yozak to continue. "If it's only a scratch, then…"

"Just score the black lines on the back—no longer and no shorter than that."

With a reluctant nod in Conrad's direction, Yozak did it. Red blood ran down like tears and the spirit winced—waiting for the next slice to come. It did. Nails dug into Murata's shoulders. And after the icy, stinging pain's feeling began to fade, Tra'va began to stretch and unfold something that looked like blackish-brown webs from the body.

Yuuri thought he was going to be sick, seeing the slick, web-like protrusions getting longer from Wolfram's seemingly perfect form. _How could we have agreed to this?_

"Tra'va?" Murata whispered in a shell-like ear that was pressed against him. Hands gripped harder.

"One second more," Wolfram's voice said back to him, arms wrapped around Murata's neck.

With a flick, they unfolded on wiry frames and became wings.

"Oh, that feels so good!" the spirit said, leaning back as far as possible but still having arms wrapped around Murata.

Yuuri's black eyes blinked at that.

Then, mercifully for the double black, Trouble let go of the sage.

Wolfram's body turned to him—pinkish eyes, tiny fangs, tarnished blond hair almost shoulder length, lithe body wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and leathery wings the color of espresso. This, in all likelihood, would be his mother's ideal dream. In fact, he remembered stories of his mother being sad that he, as a Mazoku, hadn't been born with wings.

"So, am I ugly enough for you now?" Wolfram asked, head cocked to one side.

"Umm… You're not…ugly," Yuuri said, almost mesmerized.

"Then, why are you staring?" It was an uncomfortable question, the spirit knew, because everyone was staring at that moment, not just Yuuri.

"Oh," Yuuri said, feeling a bit of pink coming to him. He fumbled for an answer and came up with, "I was wondering if you had a pointed tail." _Mom would have liked that, too,_ he thought briefly.

"A pointed tail?" Tra'va squeaked. "Just shows what you know, doesn't it? My kind don't have pointed tails." Eyes rolled. "He thinks I'm a dragon or something."

Murata smiled a little condescendingly and said, "Tra'va is from a race of beings called Chiropterans better known in Mazoku mythology as 'flying foxes.' But the last of their kind supposedly died out over three centuries ago."

"Try 'hunted to extinction' and you'd be closer to the truth," Tra'va grumbled angrily. "But, due to the influence of humans, 'extinction' is the rule for beings that look and act differently…rather than the exception." Then a thought struck, "But you don't sound so surprised, my daytime husband. How did you know?"

He pushed his glasses up on his nose with the kind of smirk only the class genius in school could master. "The moon in the daytime being a good omen. You only eat fruit and you love trees. A fire wielder...of course, your 'wind' powers only come from you being a strong spiritual entity. Hunted by humans and being forced into escaping through the Exodus to the Island of Fire. And, then, there's the tradition of having two husbands…" Murata smirked at Trouble. "I've known what you are for a long time now."

He got a gentle smile from that. "Then, you truly are a sage."

Murata grinned openly, maybe enjoying it too much, as he watched Trouble stretching. The wings extended out in equally lethargic, somewhat sensual, motions.

The sage stroked his chin and said, "What I don't understand is how your speech keeps changing. I mean, in each of my reincarnations, I changed. But, it was consistent."

"Oh, that…" It was followed by a gentle flap that sent breezes all over the room, almost extinguishing Yuuri's candle. "I tend to take on the personalities of my hosts—past and present. The last one was a horse trader named Elija from the main von Voltaire estate. He came to Blood Pledge Castle, under my influence of course, under the pretense of trying to sell the maou thoroughbreds. Wolfram, as you know, is a member of the noble class from the von Bielefeld lands. So, language-wise, you can see the problem."

Yuuri sat up in the bed a little straighter, ruffling his black hair to give the illusion that he was getting sleepy and wanted to shut his eyes for the night. "Oh, I can see the problem…and its name is Tra'va."

"How kind…," came a voice laced with syrup, "he said my name sweetly for the first time." The spirit folded the wings back against the body, leaned in towards Yuuri's face, and came within kissing distance. The double black could smell the fruit juice on Wolfram's breath. And he was tempted to turn away. But he would not give in to Trouble. So, instead, he locked eyes with the spirit in quiet determination.

"I said your name because I wanted to."

"And you _want_ an awful lot. Don't you, Yuuri?" And, with that, Tra'va licked the end of Yuuri's nose playfully and strutted over to the next bed.

"Ewww! Trouble!"

…nose wipes against a pajama sleeve…

Pinkish eyes smiled. "Now, that's more like it!"

Yuuri was snoozing in the bed softly. He'd drifted off easily once the candle had been extinguished. Murata had left to go to the bathroom to brush his teeth and do the usual business, leaving the hotel room door open a bit. Light from the hallway sconces poured in.

In the meantime, Trouble had taken the bed to Yuuri's right because it was the closest one to the window. Lightning was still dancing outside and it energized the spirit—replenishing a measure of the power that been lost during the day.

_This storm won't give me all the energy back that I need. But every little bit helps._

Pinkish eyes drifted back to the mumbling conversation between Conrad and Yozak. Conrad gave a polite nod to Trouble and then walked out of the room.

The door closed.

"Sleepy?" Trouble asked and gave the second pillow on the bed a soft pat. There was a sexy eyebrow wiggle that followed. It didn't help matters that the body was naked from the waist up and the voice sounded almost one hundred percent Wolfram's.

Yozak had to shake a few "Well, it could be kind of fun" thoughts out of his head. He glanced at Yuuri to cool his hormones down even further. "I might just take you up on that." It was followed by a wink. "But, unfortunately, I need to go downstairs for a bit. And I'm going to be guarding the door later on tonight, too."

With understanding, Tra'va's smiling face faded and seriousness crept in. "I think you should tell Conrad everything that you know…and everything that I've told you." The head tilted up a little more and pinkish eyes stared back. "In case something goes wrong…or we have difficulties…it is best that someone else knows the whole story."

Yozak cocked his head to one side—trying to figure it all out. Was this just a chance to win over his loyalty? Or was Tra'va being entirely truthful? Either way, he'd tell his captain everything because they had that kind of relationship. He scratched his head. Once he really thought about it, his relationship with Conrad was somewhat complicated and confusing—with their different standings on the social ladder and his own wandering gypsy feet. And, now that the spirit liked to tease him and call him "husband," he wondered if a part of him was actually capable of becoming like that—someone's husband.

Murata opened the door and gave a brief wave as the spy walked out.

"Where's he going?" the sage asked.

"He's going to talk to Conrad about me." Then the spirit smirked at the closed door. "I hope he makes the story good."

Murata raised a curious eyebrow at that.

"It's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

The sage looked at Trouble—tucked into bed, blond head on the pillow. Wolfram's body seemed limp and there was a slight blush. The eyes were glassy, too.

"Since I'm your daytime husband, I suppose I'd better sleep in this bed." He motioned to the bed on the left side of Yuuri. A chuckle was his answer. "Do you want me to blow out the candle?" Murata asked, motioning to the still burning candle on Yuuri's nightstand.

"Don't bother," Trouble said and blew the candle a kiss, knocking out the flame with a hiss. Only a red-embered glowing wick remained.

It had been twenty minutes, but it felt like hours. Murata had been lying in the bed with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Something kept tugging at his brain. He decided that if he kept at it long enough, he'd finally figure out what it was.

A soft groaning sound met his hears, as though someone was getting out of bed but having a hard time of doing it.

Another flash of lightning. The storm had stayed with them, the sage noted. Now, rain splattered against the window in large, oversized drops.

Taking his glasses from the nightstand, Murata could see the silhouette of a body with folded wings approaching the window. It slid back the curtains and opened the window a crack, breathing in the rain-scented air. One of the nearby chairs was brought over and Tra'va sat in it, clearly worn out and weary.

"Wolfram," Trouble said with a sigh, "I'm sorry about this."

The spirit hovered both palms over Wolfram's temple and a green glow came forth. The soft light gave the angelic face illumination. After a few minutes, the body began to lean back. The form in the chair relaxed, tight muscles softened. "Finally… What a relief."

_Tra'va is…healing Wolfram? But why?_ Murata's eyebrows pushed together in confusion. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Thinking back on it, the sage's memory flashed images of Wolfram's body sleeping against Yozak on the trip_. They weren't cuddling. Tra'va just made it look that way. He was sick back then...and still is, but hiding it. This cannot be good..._

Then, the hands moved, pressing palms flat over Wolfram's heart and a purplish glow began to form against the bare chest from splayed fingers, spilling out broken light. "You don't deserve this… I'm so…sorry."

The glow intensified and Murata noted, with growing alarm, that the figure sitting in the chair was in pain, breath hitching from time to time followed by soft groans. Body cramping badly, the spirit tossed its head back—biting the lower lip to keep from uttering a sound. The fingers jerked away and the light vanished. Trouble leaned over, breathing like a track runner who had run a marathon without stretching first.

"Tra'va?" Murata said quietly.

Trouble's eyes shot in his direction. The sage couldn't see the face clearly, but the figure seemed startled.

"I thought you were asleep."

_No jokes? No wisecracks? This is serious._ "Are you feeling okay?" Murata asked, pushing back the covers and swinging his legs off the bed.

"You…um…" Shaking hands raked through blond hair. "You really should try to go back to sleep," the spirit said with an effort to keep an even tone. "We're going to have a long day tomorrow."

"You didn't answer my question," Murata said evenly while going to the chair with Wolfram's clothes on it and dumping the whole lot on the bed Trouble had been in. He scooted the chair close to the window and sat in it. Now, he was face to face with Trouble.

"A question?" Trouble said coyly.

Murata quirked a grin, but not a kind one. "Well, you can either tell me what the matter is…or…" His eyes drifted to the door and his head turned with the look. "Or you can tell your 'night-time' husband when he gets in." Then, Murata leaned in closely so that he had a good look at Wolfram's face in the evening's flickering storm-lit night. "I suspect Yozak will be back in here once he's finished speaking with Conrad."

Wolfram's face showed ambivalence.

"What's wrong here?" the sage asked and tapped a finger on Wolfram's forehead. Almost immediately, he felt the warmth. In fact, it was more than just "warm." Wolfram's skin was hot to the touch. A furnace.

Without asking, Murata placed his whole palm across Wolfram's brow. His other hand slipped past sweat-soaked hair was pressed against the back of Wolfram's neck. It was an intimate gesture—together like that with their knees touching.

"You feel good," Wolfram's voice purred. "Thank you."

In the middle bed, Yuuri woke up to those words. He turned over in the bed to look at the one where Trouble had been sleeping only to discover it empty and two silhouettes at the window. When the lightning flashed again, he got a glimpse of the couple facing each other, knees touching. Murata's hand was still on Wolfram's brow and he was leaning in. Not liking it, Yuuri pulled the covers a little closer around his face and frowned.

"Hmmm…." The voice had a smile in it. "Do it again."

"If you insist," Murata said. "You're hot."

_Great! Just great…_ Yuuri thought tartly. _I can't believe that these two would do this kind of thing while I'm in the same room with them. And what about Wolfram? I'm not even sure if he can stand Murata let alone be that close to him._

"You guessed it. I'm running a fever," Tra'va admitted sheepishly, but trying to use a lighter tone to hide the discomfort. "It's the same with each host that I have." The spirit looked out the window for a second, trying to draw some strength from the elements in the night sky. "Two incompatible souls, one body… The fever starts pretty quickly. By the end of the journey, I'm constantly trying to keep the body cool. That's why I usually pick Mazoku with the power to heal. Though, I did choose a half Mazoku herbalist once. I had to drink this nasty green crap for the week's journey."

Murata almost smiled at that. The left hand dropped to Wolfram's shoulder and the right hand caressed a cheek.

"You could have told me," he said quietly. "After all, I'm your day-time husband."

Trouble chuckled at that. "Would you be able to help me with my problem? Wolfram's heart tells me 'no.' So, you would worry for nothing."

The hand was still caressing a warm cheek. Wolfram's hand found its way on top of Murata's. Trouble leaned into the touch.

"You're not 'nothing,' believe me," Murata said with a quirky smile coming to him because it felt so strange saying that to Wolfram's fair face.

He was answered with a noncommittal "hm."

The spirit turned to the storm again, opening the window a crack more and putting a hand through it to touch the rain. It was a cool, refreshing rain with an energy all its own. Trouble flicked the wet fingers, sending little splashes in the direction of the window.

The shape of the pinkish eyes became soft, rounded.

"What are you thinking?" Murata asked. Hopefully, he could steer the conversation to the purple light that he saw.

"I was thinking of how this came to be. Maybe, by picking Wolfram, I chose the wrong host."

_Yes, you did,_ Yuuri thought from his bed. _Actually, anyone you would have picked would have been the wrong person and unlucky._

"You don't know what it is like," Tra'va said sadly, "…or, maybe…you do."

"Wha-?" Murata was confused now.

"Jumping from life to life." This time, it was Trouble who stroked a tan cheek with a distant, somber expression—seeing him and not seeing him. "Even now, I wonder…"

"Wonder…what?"

"I've been through so many lives…seen their stories and felt their souls... Then I fall in love with them…even when I don't want to. And, all too soon, it's goodbye. But, it still makes me wonder if there's anything of me left. The original 'me.' I barely remember…who that was." The eyes turned to a dusty rose color as the hand withdrew.

Murata felt the warmth leave and missed it.

"Until now, I never found anyone else who could understand that."

Murata nodded. He did, in deed, know exactly what the spirit spoke of, and he felt the same question haunting him—"Is there anything left of the real me?"

"Tra'va… How did you die?" It was a personal question, he knew it.

"Tomb robber."

Black eyes, both Yuuri's and Murata's, opened wide at that.

"The circumstances aren't really important anymore." It was said with an awkward shrug. "I died in the year of your sixth maou. His name was, I believe, Edmund the Unready."

Wanting to lighten things a bit, the sage placed a hand on Wolfram's knee in a way that would have gotten him decked hard, had Wolfram been in charge of his own body. Trouble, on the other hand, didn't mind at all.

"Oh _Edmund_," Murata said nostalgically, "now, there's a name I haven't heard in quite awhile. Yes, Edmund…and he was aptly named, too." A sheepish, half-embarrassed smile came to his lips.

The spirit brightened somewhat and smiled a little mischievously, "Was he a …_personal friend_…of yours, my dear husband? Should I be jealous?"

Murata held back a huffy laugh. "Let's just say that what he lacked in intelligence, he more than made up for in other ways… He was quite a peacock, but popular with the ladies. And, being born a woman back then, I was one of his _favorite_ companions."

"Then, I am jealous," Tra'va teased. "How can I compete with that?" Wolfram's hand stroked Murata's cheek again. He didn't move away. In fact, his eyes lingered a little longer on the pink lips in front of him. Wolfram's head tilted down, hiding a smile. Then, without missing a beat, the spirit looked up and said, "Wait… Does that mean you're older than me?"

"Afraid so," Murata said with a bit of a laugh.

"Hmmm…I've always fancied older men."

"I suppose that's what I am."

Another flash of lightning appeared and the spirit's smile faded. "Can I talk to you about something…something serious?"

"Of course," Murata said, cocking his head to one side. _Now, I'll ask Tra'va about the purple light._

"Speaking of _fancy_…I mean…" Tra'va took a shallow breath and said, "Wolfram knows everything."

"I'm sorry?" Murata couldn't understand. This was not what he was expecting.

The spirit leaned back in the chair, placing hands on the armrests.

"Wolfram knows…about Kumiko."

Murata cringed openly and muttered "damn it" under his breath. In the bed, Yuuri's eyes widened in disbelief. He gave feeble little shakes of the head "no," but it didn't help.

"How did he find out?" Murata asked in a hollow voice. "It just seems…impossible."

The spirit shot a brief glare at him. "It was you, actually."

Yuuri felt his breath leave his body. _Why would Murata do that?! It can't be!_

"No," Murata Ken denied, "I never spoke to him."

"You didn't have to. Early last week, you and Yuuri came back to the castle from a place called 'Earth'." Trouble scratched a blond head at that. "Tell me, husband, is 'Earth' another country?"

The question seemed irrelevant to Murata. He blinked at it.

"Wolfram keeps trying to show me what 'Earth' is, but I simply cannot understand it any other way. A mysterious people who all look like you and Yuuri, carriages that move on their own without horses, fires that don't burn but make symbols that glow in the night to let you know that a shop is still open…"

Murata nodded. "You can think of it as another country, if you like." He leaned forward to look at the spirit. Their knees brushed against each other. "But how did Wolfram find out…about _her_…from me?"

"It was late and Wolfram was dressing for bed when he heard voices talking in the hallway." The spirit turned to the window. Looking at Murata was just too hard. "One voice sounded like Yuuri's. And Wolfram was thrilled that Yuuri was back because he had been disappearing a lot lately—being gone for a week and then, suddenly, coming back to his duties. So, Wolfram was excited, but pretended not to be. Yuuri was back. Yuuri. _His Yuuri…_ But there was another voice, too. Curious, Wolfram opened the door a little. And that was when you brought up the… How did you describe her? New girlfriend Yuuri's been sleeping with."

Murata hung his head. "I just… The way it is…is…" He couldn't get the words out.

"Don't bother," the spirit said, raising a hand up to stop him. "I can see it all through Wolfram's eyes…just as though I had been standing there, too."

Murata fidgeted in his seat under the spirit's hard gaze. "He's not sleeping with her…exactly…"

"He just plans to? After all, you're the one getting the hotel room."

In the bed, Yuuri's hands dug into the blanket's material. He pulled it closer. Yuuri felt sick inside. "He knows. That's why Wolfram threw the book at me, and the pillows…and melted the candles down," he whispered to no one.

"I think some part of Wolfram expected Yuuri to cheat on him. It's his greatest fear. But what you did was probably worse. It's betrayal."

Murata folded his arms defensively and looked down at his feet. "Don't."

The spirit continued. "The sage is a huge part of Shin Makoku's culture and folklore. Because of that, they revere you. What Wolfram was desperately hoping for was that the sage…_The Great Sage_…would advise Yuuri _not_ to…would advise him to stay with his commitments, with his fiancé." The spirit tucked a stray piece of blond hair behind an ear. "But you didn't. You joked. You cajoled. You _encouraged_."

Murata wanted to deny it. He really did. But he couldn't.

"Wolfram doesn't trust you…or Yuuri…now."

Feeling defensive, Murata countered with "If you can see into Wolfram's heart, then you can see that this whole engagement is…"

"A lie," Tra'va finished for him. "But, look at it another way, will you? Wolfram, to be engaged to the only person he's ever cared about. A first love who betrays him, in front of his own eyes like it's a joke—told as a joke—with the full approval of the Demon Kingdom's Great Sage." Tra'va shook a blond head at that. And Murata wished, in that moment, that it was not Wolfram's voice speaking or that the face before him wasn't looking that sad.

"First love…" Tra'va said, "You remember what it was like, _**my sage**_?"

Murata's eyes instantly narrowed at the reference to Shinou. Trouble was playing dirty, now, with Wolfram's memories—bringing up Shinou this way. And, considering how his relationship with the Original King ended…

"You remember first love…with all of its hopes and fears and frailties?"

Murata frowned back. "It's not the same thing. And I think describing Yuuri and Wolfram together as a 'lie' is too strong as well. If you can see into Wolfram's heart, you can see that the engagement was just a mistake...a cultural misunderstanding."

Trouble gave a crooked grin heavily laced with anger. "Mistake? Staying by Yuuri's side was the mistake." Pinkish eyes met black ones. "Do you want to know what he thinks now? He thinks that sleeping next to Yuuri for all of those years, letting his guard down and allowing himself to feel anything for anyone…was a mistake. Though, in my opinion, I find it less of a mistake and more of a sin…a forgivable sin on Wolfram's part."

"Maybe."

_Maybe? How is that an answer?_ Yuuri thought.

"I think Wolfram has cried too many times in the night over Yuuri. I see it in his memories, and I'm tired of it. You should see what it has done to his soul. I'll give you a look if you wish." Tra'va held out a hand for him to take. Murata shook his head "no." With a sigh, the spirit turned back to the window and the rainstorm. The glowing clouds were fading away into the night. "We're never going to agree on this, you and I. But, maybe, that's for the best, too."

Just when Murata felt that the argument was going to start up again, Trouble slumped in the chair and said, "I'm sorry, husband, for being so difficult. Wolfram wouldn't want me to be this way…to fight his battles for him or to feel pity. But, forgive me… I can feel the warmth of his tears sliding down and the agony that comes with being unloved."

Murata nodded. "On Earth, there is a saying, 'No person is worth your tears,  
and the one who is won't make you cry'."

"And, he knows—actually everyone knows—that this love is unrequited and will always be." The spirit leaned forward, resting forearms on Wolfram's thighs. "But, one-sided love has its purposes also. It cuts and carves into your soul, yes…but it also teaches you to appreciate love when it is offered to you again." The spirit smudged away a tear. "It's just hard to watch such a beautiful creature suffer like this. Sometimes, all he really wants is for someone to hold him...just hold him. Is that asking so much?"

Trouble tugged at the unruly strand of blond hair again. Maybe it was the humidity that was doing it. "I've been trying to explain to Wolfram, who is within me like a daydream, that Yuuri isn't a man at all. He's a boy."

"I know he is." The sage took his glasses off and polished them with the edge of his pajama top.

Rubbing a tear in his eye, Yuuri frowned at his friend. He was a partner in crime, so to speak. And he should have defended him better.

"I suppose that what you are also unaware of…or maybe not…" Trouble cocked a head to one side to look at Murata sincerely. "Are consequences…"

_Eh?_ Yuuri thought.

"Wolfram, his mother, and Gwendal have been meeting secretly over the past few days."

The sage looked genuinely surprised.

"…Planning what to do once Yuuri either breaks the engagement or takes on a lover… Truth be told, they've already decided. Now, it's just a matter of waiting for the right time."

_Did Wolfram give up on me?_ Yuuri wondered. _But, he said he'd be with me…If I fall, he'll fall with me._

"Look," Murata said, trying to phrase things the right way, "Yuuri just wants to…be like any other normal…"

"Normal Demon King? Absolute authority? Person in charge who has people depending on him? Maybe a little daughter who gets left behind every time Yuuri disappears to Earth?"

Feeling sad for Greta, Murata nodded at the words. "I understand it, but…"

"I'm sorry but Yuuri wants to have it both ways… To be an adult _and_ a child at the same time." The spirit chewed on a bottom lip for a second with eyes far away, drinking in memories that were clearly painful. "And, I'm not really sure why I brought all of this up to begin with. It's out of your hands."

Murata shot the spirit a worried expression. It was the unmistakable sensation that Yuuri's world would soon spin out of control. And he had worked so hard to be a good friend and to arrange things so that Yuuri would have as much of a normal life as possible.

"Tell me, please… What's going to happen? Is Wolfram planning to do something…something dangerous…to get back at Yuuri?"

"That was actually Gwendal's question, too—the great, pompous ass. It shows just how little he understands and respects his brother's judgment." Murata didn't miss the implication that this applied to him as well.

In his bed, Yuuri felt his whole body tense up. He needed to know everything. And a part of him wanted to confront Trouble: to fight, to argue, and to insist upon answers—even if he had to turn into the maou to do it. But, he also knew that the spirit would fight him every inch of the way without fear of death. No, this was better—easier. The spirit would open up to Murata "the husband," much more easily.

Trouble pushed the window again to let some cool, moist air in. The room was becoming too stuffy anyway.

Murata's eyes had a hard look in them. He placed a desperate hand on top of the blond's and stroked it softly with his thumb. "What are you not telling me?"

Trouble leaned forward to meet him, a pouting mouth close to his. "Little pieces of everything."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tra'va was no fool. The spirit stared deeply into Murata's eyes. He seemed so concerned, desperate to know what was to come. In the next few moments, sitting there together in the dark, he would definitely try to pry the information out by one means or another. For, if he could, the spirit knew, he would use all of his wisdom to create the best possible outcome for Yuuri. As his good friend and political advisor, he was compelled to do that. However, Tra'va's goals were different. Yuuri, even though he was king, was not even remotely as important as Wolfram was.

Looking into Murata's dark eyes, even now, brought back memories of another pair of equally dark eyes. The memories were etched as scars into Wolfram's soul.

Between gritted teeth, Wolfram said, "I can't believe I trusted you."

The look on Yuuri's face was innocent, wide-eyed, and confused. Either it was the best acting job in the world, or he really didn't think that what he was doing was wrong.

The doorknob found its way into Wolfram's hand and he turned it hard. He flung open the door and ran out, avoiding the two guards stationed in the hallway. They blinked at their Lord von Bielefeld running off like that, angry as hell with steam rising from his freshly bathed body almost dangerously.

A faint "Wolfram?" could be heard coming from the king's chambers. But no one answered him.

In bare feet, Wolfram ran with his head lowered, tears streaming down his blotched face. As weak as it was, he simply couldn't hold them back any longer. But if he could just make it a few more steps, he could take a quick left and sprint down to the middle of the next hallway to his room. That's where Yuuri wanted to banish him anyway, right? But, instead, he ran into something big, thick, and dark green. Then, he fell on his butt hard and skidded a bit on the stone floor.

"Ouch-ch-ch-ch…"

The blond tilted his face up to see what had stopped him.

_Holy crap…__It's Gwendal!_

Wolfram's oldest brother, hands on his hips, frowned back at him. But, almost instantly, his face grew softer and more concerned.

"Wolfram?" He knelt down. "What happened?" Then, he eyed him closely. Wolfram, sitting in an undignified sprawl on the stone floor, was wearing only the thin, frilly pink nightie. "Why are you dressed like this? The halls are drafty and…" He never finished his sentence. Instead, he placed his hand on the side of Wolfram's face and smudged away the pearl of a cold tear, clinging to his cheek.

Gwendal stood up, trying to force back the mask of calm determination that he usually wore. He offered a hand to Wolfram, who took it reluctantly. It was embarrassing now, being caught like this by someone, maybe the worst possible "someone." It was weak. And, above all, Wolfram hated being weak. It only played into the "perfect, fragile doll" image that his mother and Uncle Waltorana wanted for him. How long had he been trying to fight that?

Gwendal cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth. "Wolfram, please explain what…?"

Pity. That's what Wolfram saw now. It ate at him. Wolfram shook his blond head "no." Words failed him. If he said them out loud, then they'd be real. The situation would be real. And he didn't want it to be. There would be no place for him at the castle—in Yuuri's life—if he did. Unloved. Homeless.

Briefly, he thought about turning back, returning to the maou's bedroom, and living a lie. And why not? He'd been doing it for awhile now, not realizing how much things had changed. Maybe it was the kind of life he deserved as payment for all of the luxuries handed to him. "Love" just wouldn't be one of them.

Gwendal cast his eyes left and right in the hallway. "Let's go," he said gruffly, but the blond couldn't make himself move. It was like being a child again. But, unlike then, a hug from his brother wouldn't fix anything. No amount of affection from him would.

Gwendal fretted, looking around again. "Let's get you away from here before…"

"_Oh, Gwendal_!" Lady Cheri sing-songed, turning the corner and being greeted by Gwendal's back. She was bubbly and enthusiastic. "I really need you to have those repairs done to my yacht." She held up two glasses. "Come now, dear, we can discuss it over wine and…" Bouncy breasts leading the way, she edged past Gwendal only to see her youngest, Wolfram, standing in the hallway wearing only his nightgown.

She lowered the bottle of wine in her left hand and the long stemmed glasses in her right as she approached a clearly tear-stained Wolfram. "Did something…happen…tonight?" Parent that she was, no matter the age of her child, she worried about the worst. And many horrible scenarios were coming to mind. "Please, tell me what's the matter."

Gwendal stepped in between them. "I think this is a 'men's' discussion," Gwendal said authoritatively.

Lady Cheri tilted her head to one side, not really taking everything in.

Gwendal gave her that "Let me talk to him first" look. Then, she caught on.

"Wolfram?" he said, turning to his baby brother, "Since my room is right here we're going to get some bath things. You need a soak."

"But I've already had a bath tonight." He touched his still damp hair.

"Look at the bottom of your feet."

Wolfram lifted a foot and saw that his feet were smudged with fine, grainy dirt.

"And, then, there's your adorable bottom," Lady Cheri chimed in.

Wolfram glanced down. He had light dirt smudges on his butt from his brief slide on the floor.

"A second bath won't kill you." And that was the end of the discussion. Ten minutes later, Wolfram and Gwendal were in the special bath set aside for the castle administrators. It wasn't as big or as luxurious as Yuuri's. But it could still hold twenty people easily and with just as much steam floating around like little clouds.

Wolfram finished with his brief shower and walked over to the tub with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He sat on the edge and stuck his feet in—kicking the water a little.

"W-o-l-f-r-a-m," Gwendal said in an admonishing tone. It got a sound that could vaguely resemble a laugh. It had a note of nostalgia in it, and Gwendal almost smiled.

Dipping down to soak his broad shoulders inside the tub, Gwendal turned to Wolfram—indigo eyes regarded him. "So," he began, "where does it hurt?"

"It…umm…"

An eyebrow arched at him.

The blond took a shallow breath. "It's…Yuuri…"

"Obviously."

Wolfram tried to fold his arms on his chest, but only managed to hug himself. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Gwendal's face grew stern. He turned away slightly, grabbing a small bottled drink that smelled of yogurt and cherries. He held it in his hands, trying to convince himself that he wanted to drink it. But, he didn't. It just gave him something to do, a prop to hold, while he asked the question that had been burning in his mind since he'd run into his brother in the hallway. "Did Yuuri _do something_ to you tonight?"

"In a way…" Wolfram's voice grew hollow. "But I don't want to talk about it. I can't."

Indigo eyes grew wide with rage. "I'll kill him!" He threw the bottled drink against the wall. It smashed into pieces and created a gloppy goo splat on the floor. The man sloshed water as he trudged his way out of the bath. "I don't care if he's the maou or not!"

Wolfram shoved his hands out, palms wide, to stop him. "No, Gwendal! That's not it. He didn't lay a finger on me."

Naked and dripping, the man looked at Wolfram with a feeling of confusion mixed with frustration.

The blond turned away.

"Like I said... He didn't lay a finger on me. But, that's just the problem. He never did…and never will." Wolfram tried to force a smile on his face to let his brother see that everything was fine. It was going to be okay. He'd make it okay. When the world began to look like rippling water, he continued to smile and closed his eyes. Small tears made shimmering paths down. Not brave enough to open them, he said, "Gwendal, I think I'm going to need your help. Please draw up annulment papers for me…and Yuuri. And, if possible, I'd like it in writing that I still have permission to be Greta's other father."

"Is this really what you want?"

The head lowered. With a shrug, "I don't see any other way out of this."

"I'm sorry, Wolfram," Gwendal said, padding over and then sitting next to his brother. He kicked his legs a little in the water. Then, he got a playful nudge from Wolfram for breaking his own "no splashing" rule.

"I couldn't make him love me. I tried…I really tried." He leaned against Gwendal's shoulder and fought back a sob.

"That's a lesson everyone has to learn on their own."

"So, what's wrong with me?" Wolfram sighed while standing up and then wandering over to his clothes. "I know that I'm beautiful. But, that isn't enough…apparently. I know that I'm brave and loyal. But those things don't matter to him because he's never been surrounded by advisors he didn't trust." The blond began to pull on the set of clothes that belonged to his brother. The borrowed clothes were much too big for him. But, if he tugged the pajama drawstring tight enough and tied the bathrobe around himself just right, it would be good enough. "I know that I'm loud and that everyone sees me as a brat. I tell Yuuri…no, I mean, 'Heika'…the truth. Maybe, too much of it. Maybe…that's why…I…?"

There was a hopeless glance that he threw at his brother—the kind that Gwendal would have done anything in his power to take away.

"I know that Yuuri's denied the engagement all along. I know that he's never wanted to discuss weddings or be any part of a discussion along those lines."

"So, he finally told you…in a way you could understand…that the two of you will never be married?" Gwendal decided that maybe this was for the best after all. It was about time Yuuri developed a vertebrae and explained this concept to his stubborn little brother in a way that was concrete, undeniable.

"In a way, he did," Wolfram said, wiping his face with the sleeve of the bathrobe. "I just wish that he had annulled it first, ordered me out of his life, and sent me away before…finding someone else."

"Now, I want to kill him all over again," Gwendal muttered bitterly.

For the first time that night, Wolfram really laughed. There were tears in his eyes when he did it, but he laughed just the same. "Me, too."

* * *

Trouble gave Murata a wry smile. "You're 'The Great Sage.' You have all the answers."

Murata's expression changed. Maybe, this would become a tug-of-war for information. Maybe not. Either way, if he wanted to know more, he would have to play along with this potential mind game. But, it had been awhile since he was challenged. And he wasn't sure if his 'win' would come easily enough. The Original Sage within him was curious, to say the least.

"I've lived a long time… You have, too. Do _you_ have all the answers?"

A toothy grin from a Wolframish face greeted him. "I have learned from every host…every life. Thanks to Wolfram, I have learned a lot…especially about swordplay, battle strategies, training techniques, and Mazoku history."

"I had no idea that Wolfram was such a big fan of history." That part was true. He really didn't think that Wolfram was much more than a loud mouth and a pretty face.

"You'd be surprised about the real Wolfram."

_Here we go._ Murata leaned back in the chair a little and put his arms on the armrests. "Enlighten me."

Another quirked grin came his way.

Unnoticed by either of them, Yuuri stayed in the bed with the covers pulled up around his chin. He wanted to know, too, but worried about someone like Yozak or Conrad coming in for the night to sleep in the room with them. Trouble would certainly clam up if that happened.

"Let's see… Though he probably would never say so openly, a lot of his interest in history stems from his blood ties to two ancestors: A beautiful cross dresser named "Rufus" and The Original King…someone you know…quite…_well_."

Murata didn't know how to respond to that. But he was sure that _Tra'va_ had phrased it that way on purpose.

"And I believe that this king…Shinou, is it?"

A nod came as a response.

"Shinou is the spirit that watches over you, sits on your shoulder, invades your dreams, and…sometimes…reads your thoughts, my daytime husband."

Murata's face fell at that. "He can read my thoughts?"

"Even with my own magic, all I have to do is touch you. I'll see what you see, feel what you feel, hear your thoughts, and so on."

Murata chewed his lip a little at that news. It would explain a lot regarding Shinou. And he would have to be much more guarded with him in the future considering what a prankster The Original King could be.

"And I know that there's a spark of fear in you…when you look at me."

Murata's eyes widened. "No, you're mistaken. I'm fairly amused by you." He did his best to put on the relaxed air that he always had with the spirit.

Wolfram's beautiful face smiled at him. "Not all of you…just a spark."

Murata scratched the side of his nose a little. "I suppose that it's just awkward having what looks like Lord von Bielefeld sitting in front of me without that disapproving frown he usually wears in my company. A Wolfram wearing boxers and black socks." His head tilted to one side. "The wings are a nice touch, but a little disconcerting at the same time."

Tra'va laughed in Wolfram's voice. "Would you like to see my true form?"

Murata thought about it. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what the spirit looked like. Sure, he'd read the books on mythology. He had a fairly sketchy idea of what the flying foxes looked like. But, he wasn't sure if he would treat Tra'va the same way afterwards if he knew for sure.

In the bed, Yuuri leaned his chin up—curious. What did Trouble really look like? He wanted to know.

"But, if it makes you uncomfortable…" Wolfram's blond head shook a "no" while saying it.

"I'm fine with it," Murata said, ignoring the reservations that he had. This might get him closer to the spirit. He might figure out what Wolfram, Lady Cheri, and Gwendal had in store once Yuuri and Wolfram broke up for good.

The spirit folded arms across the chest slowly and tossed the head to one side, giving an impish grin.

"This is my true form."

Black and purple bands of light wrapped around Tra'va—making Wolfram's milky white features fade and another body take its place. The form grew several centimeters and the shoulders widened a bit. The waist narrowed with a navel that was slanted vertically. Straight red hair flowed down past the shoulders and onto the chest. The face seemed almost human but hinted at slightly narrowed features like an earth fox, slanted pinkish eyes, and mocha skin that went perfectly with leathery wings. Fat, wide breasts pressed out from behind the folded arms.

Murata's first thought was _She's absolutely beautiful._

_It's a girl!_ Yuuri's brain shouted. He couldn't breathe. What, the hell, was going on?

"So, was I what you expected?" came a voice that was dark and oozing with sex appeal.

"Pretty much," Murata confessed. "The males of your species have fur on the epaulettes." He patted his own shoulders. "You didn't. So, I knew for certain that you were female."

"Thanks a lot, Murata," Yuuri grumped to himself. "You could have shared that little piece of info."

"Yes, I'm a girl," the spirit chuckled, wide breasts practically jiggled over folded arms.

Murata was having a little difficulty not looking lower. His "husband" now turning out to be a "wife." He fought back a grin and asked, "So, being a woman, I suppose it's a little odd being in a male body."

There was a friendly shrug. "It's not the first time. Though, I prefer my own gender whenever possible. That's why I was going to take the maid at first." A slight giggle followed. "Now, being a guy…I've got that extra 'swing' in my step."

"I know what you mean," Murata said, "though I doubt that anyone other than us would be able to understand that."

"Agreed," Tra'va said, standing up and then sitting down directly into Murata's lap.

"I…uh…" His mind went blank.

In the bed, Yuuri tilted up his head to see better and got the shock of his life. In Murata's lap there was a woman, a very sexy woman, who was bare-breasted and wearing _his_ boxers.

"Problem?" Tra'va asked as she lifted Murata's chin up with a taloned fingernail. "Am I too heavy for you? You can't handle it?"

"N-N-No…" His eyes were wide. He didn't dare look down, but his eyes seemed to be pulled in that direction anyway. This was very much a part of every male fantasy that he'd ever had.

"Oh, I see," she said and wrapped her arms around Murata's neck. "It's the spirit of that king. You're worried he'll see this as you cheating on him."

"No…our relationship was always…complicated. There's nothing…," Murata sputtered, worrying that he was lying somewhere in his heart and that Tra'va could read it instantly.

"Well, you don't belong to him right now or in the days to come," the woman whispered and wiggled a little in Murata's lap.

Murata bit his lip—hard. He was trying to be a good boy in spite of his pervy rep. He honestly was—even with the seductive little wiggles going on…that _kept_ going on. _Yuuri's in the room and the others could come in at any moment._ Murata tensed up again when the slender arms tightened around his neck and the warm, fat breasts pressed against his collar. He was thinking of baseball, cold showers, and_Günter pole dancing—anything._

There were gentle nips around the curve of his ear. Murata closed his eyes. The nibbles moved down to his neck. There was a hitch in his breathing when the material of his pajama top was pulled back to get better access to his collarbone. A warm tongue played seductively there.

"Tra'va?" he said quietly, the tone with an edge of panic.

Her angled face came into view, dangerously close to his lips. "I think you should kiss me."

The sage's jaw dropped and Trouble took advantage of it, cupping his face and bringing it up at just the right angle.

Soft lips pressed against Murata's mouth, urging him. When he didn't respond immediately, Tra'va tugged gently on his lower lip with white teeth. Murata, finally giving in, allowed his hands to go directly to Tra'va's waist and he pulled the slender body closer. The kiss deepened. And, hesitantly, Murata explored the sharp little fangs in the spirit's mouth with the tip of his tongue. At first, he worried that they'd be sharp and serrated like shark teeth. But, he was surprised to find out that they were only slightly sharper than human teeth. Tra'va chuckled in her throat before breaking the kiss. "Be careful doing that, my husband," she said in a low voice, "among my kind, it's an invitation…of sorts. Like this is…" The words were followed by another deep kiss against slick lips and a hand unbuttoning Murata's pajama top to run a finger along his chest in dizzying little spirals.

Murata's breathing hitched again and his hands grabbed at the waist with urgency, then moved up, fingers making soft trails. Tra'va extended her wings and wrapped them like a blanket around them both. Murata kissed her neck and then bit hard. She laughed at him devilishly.

Then, there was a brief knock at the door.

Conrad entered to see a very bored looking Wolfram and a very startled Murata sitting in front of the open window.

The breeze caught the curtain.

"Sorry," Tra'va said with a slight shrug. 'I couldn't sleep."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"I'm sorry," Conrad said, scanning the room and finding Yuuri up, too, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position in the middle bed. "I didn't want to wake anyone."

The spirit eyed Yuuri, wondering how long he'd been awake, and then the blond head turned back to Conrad. "Where is Yozak?" Trouble asked, slightly curious.

"He's watching the hallway while I sleep. I'll take over in four hours."

Trouble's pink eyes turned to the blank wall for a second, sensing the orange haired man's aura. "He'll be frightfully bored," the spirit said with a wink to Yuuri who frowned. "Maybe I should go and keep him company." Wolfram's hands clasped together happily.

"No!" Yuuri and Murata both said at once. Then, they exchanged looks. Yuuri's face showed unmistakable annoyance. Murata, on the other hand, had a mixture of determination and boyish guilt. Then, the sage's face melted into a cheesy grin.

Trouble frowned in confusion. "Fine…I'll stay here."

"Which leads to another problem," Murata said with the smile fading away. He didn't need to look at Conrad for very long to read his body language. It was that "awkward" without trying to appear awkward stance.

Tra'va responded with a "Hm?"

"Well, there's four of us and only three beds."

"I'll take a chair. It's not a problem," Conrad said diplomatically. Over the years, he'd slept in just about every position possible. And taking one of the chairs by the window would give him a good view of the street down below, just to play it safe. He only hoped that he wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck tomorrow.

"Please, take the bed to Yuuri's left," Tra'va said in a respectful tone. "I'll sleep with my husband in this bed." The spirit made a gesture to the bed closest to the window. "Truly, it is not an inconvenience to anyone."

Murata smiled with a bit too much enthusiasm. "I agree."

Conrad scratched his head a little as he watched Trouble crawl back into bed with Murata following after. Conrad turned to get his bag for his night clothes and accidentally caught the expression on Yuuri's face. Even in the dark, it was obvious that he wasn't pleased by this turn of events—not pleased at all. The double black glared at the couple in the bed next to him.

Murata set his glasses on the nightstand and Trouble, receiving Yuuri's dark look without caring in the slightest, rested a blond head on the pillow.

Yuuri reclined slowly and stared up. He was tired, he decided. Maybe, he wouldn't even glance at Murata and Trouble until the morning—maybe. Then, he heard Murata whisper, "My, you were very polite to Lord Weller." There was a slight humming in Wolfram's voice before the answer, "Forgive me, but when I look at Conrad, I see someone else."

Yuuri felt a bit surprised by that. He held his breath, but wasn't sure why.

"Should I be jealous?" Murata joked quietly. He turned on his side and spooned his body against Tra'va's, nestling softly. When another pleased hum came from the blond, Murata stretched his arm across Wolfram's waist on top of the covers.

"It was someone dear to me lifetimes and lifetimes ago." The words were hollow and Murata gave a friendly squeeze around Trouble's middle.

"I have people like that, too, from my pasts. They live in my heart, my memories," he whispered back. "It's okay to visit those thoughts occasionally. They'll give you comfort and companionship as the eons pass."

"They pass…slowly, you know."

"They do," Murata said as a sigh.

"Conrad seems so much like him…except for the eyes and the missing wings." Pink eyes grew misty at the thought. "But, I suppose, no matter how old I get, I can never forget my father."

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri woke up before the others. He wanted to see how Murata survived the night. Wolfram was a notoriously bad bed partner. He kicked, spun about, and, occasionally, one of them would fall off the bed and onto the cold floor. Yuuri lived for those rare moments when the blond would suddenly sit up while rubbing his blond locks with a "How, the hell, did that happen?" look in his emerald eyes.

Tra'va disappointed Yuuri yet again. The spirit was in almost the exact same position from last night. The chin was tilted slightly higher, but the rest stayed the same. Murata had, not so oddly enough, managed to snuggle even closer during the night and was sharing the same pillow with the spirit. He seemed older, and his profile had a peaceful glow about it.

"Geez, could you two sleep any closer?" Yuuri muttered to himself, remembering the few times that Wolfram had gravitated to his side of the bed only to be sharply elbowed away. Now, looking at the couple, Yuuri wondered if he had been wrong. If simply lying closely to Wolfram would have been so bad after all. Apparently, Murata's answer was different than his own.

Wolfram's pale hand was draped over the side of the bed. It would take very little effort on Yuuri's part to just touch it, take it. Back on Earth, lately, he was getting pretty good at taking a girl's hand once he realized that she would not be opposed to it. But Wolfram was different: loud, incredibly bossy, impossible to ignore, and terribly…terribly _male_. But something in his heart tugged at him. An emptiness. The space between them didn't feel good—especially now that he knew for certain that Wolfram had gotten wind of Kumiko.

"Good morning," yawned a Wolframish voice.

"Eh? Oh…'morning," Yuuri stammered. His mind snapped back to the present.

"Hmmm." The sound came from Murata, who snuggled briefly and then turned away to lie on his other side.

Trouble smiled at that. The blond head turned to watch the daytime husband's movements in the bed. But, when the head craned to see better (for Murata was cute when he snuggled into the blankets), Yuuri got a reminder of what went on last night in front of the window. Wolfram's creamy white neck was exposed and the double black could see two hickeys and an incredibly deep bite bruise.

Oblivious, Trouble sat up in the bed a little, the covers dropped away to expose a bare chest, and the spirit leaned over to see that Conrad's bed was empty. "I suppose he got up early to spend some time with Yozak. Lucky devil, huh?" Trouble's eyes bored into the wall for a second. "But they haven't gone far. I can feel their auras at the end of the hallway." Then a frown came to the spirit. "Still…I wonder when Yozak will get a chance to sleep…"

Yuuri was only half listening. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Wolfram's neck. Some part of him felt that Wolfram was being used and he didn't like it. Yuuri was about to point out the marks when Trouble asked, "Do you think we should wake up this lump in the bed next to me?"

The sage looked so blissful…so peaceful.

"Yes," Yuuri said with certainty. His mouth became a thin line.

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Trouble agreed, repositioning Wolfram's legs to sit cross-legged in the bed.

"Oh, and Trouble?" Yuuri said with his onyx eyes hardening. "Your neck." He pointed at it. "You might want to look in the bathroom mirror."

Tra'va touched gingerly and felt the marks. A sheepish grin came over Wolfram's face. Yuuri hated it. He absolutely hated it. Wolfram never grinned like that—ever. He fought back a sudden flash of anger.

"Oops… I see your point." A girlish giggle followed. "I keep forgetting that this pale skin is so delicate." A hand hovered over the marks and a greenish glow began. "Can't go around looking like this."

There was a "humph" that caught the spirit's ear. Pink eyes rolled at the response. "Fine, then, tell me how you get rid of your love bites, Yuuri." Finished, the green glow slowly disappeared from Wolfram's hand. "Just like the 'ba-ku-za-zu' that you made me wear to bed because I didn't know any better, there must be a 'right way' that Wolfram's heart isn't showing me."

"Trouble, they're called 'boxers' and, no, I'm not discussing any kind of 'love bites' with you, okay?"

"Well, you acted like you're the authority on it."

"I'm not."

"I find that hard to believe." The tone was an unmistakable open dig at Yuuri. He didn't miss it.

"What are you trying to say?" the double black demanded. His hands hardened into fists.

Then, Wolfram's elbow leaned against one knee. A soft cheek rested in the right palm. There was no backing down now. "I think what I'm trying to say is…" The spirit's eyes changed. For a brief second, Yuuri was certain that the pink eyes changed to emerald green. But, too soon, they darkened and reddened. "When this is over…and Wolfram returns to this body… Let him go."

Defensive, Yuuri turned away. "I don't understand what you mean."

Pink lips twitched into a wry smile. "That's odd because the ancient spirit that dwells within you knows _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"Eh?" The double black turned to Trouble with confused, dark eyes.

"The Maou."

"But how can you…? I can't even… I mean…" Yuuri was flustered at the thought.

"You two seem to have a strange relationship. You talk and act. He watches and listens. And he only jumps out during a crisis." Trouble stretched a little and rubbed sleep out of an eye. "Oh, don't give me _that_." It was followed by a disrespectful growl and a narrowing of the eyes.

"Wha-?" Yuuri was truly confused now.

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to _him_." Tra'va focused pink eyes on the center of Yuuri's chest. "Considering what we both know and have seen, why have you allowed Yuuri to do all of the things he's done so far?"

There was silence and the double black was beginning to think that Tra'va had simply lost it.

Wolfram's pink lips frowned. "Oh, don't go spouting that 'free will' crap to me. Isn't it your job as the all mighty 'Maou Spirit' to guide Yuuri?"

More silence followed. But, this time, Yuuri could feel a series of emotions spreading within him in a sharp arc. It was too much at once; it hurt.

There was a blond shake of the head "no." "I am not using Wolfram's body to influence you. This is the body I've made a contract for. I had no idea you even existed until I met Yuuri later on." Pale hands rested on hips. "What?! No! The contract is fair, and the decision entirely Wolfram's."

The double black could feel the pain growing in his chest. It was getting hard to breathe. He took one of his doubled up fists and pressed it against his heart—which was thumping irregularly now, like a drummer who had lost the beat.

Wolfram's blond eyebrows pushed together. "Then, if you won't guide Yuuri or even talk to him about this… I'll give you the same advice that I just gave him. When I leave at the holy shrine, and Wolfram returns to control his own body…just say 'goodbye' to him and know that Wolfram will gladly walk away. He _will not_ accept either of you back..." An animalistic growl followed from Trouble to emphasize the point. "…Which is a pity…" Tra'va gritted out the words "…because, unlike Yuuri, you love Wolfram very much!"

Still lying on his side, Murata's eyes had been open the whole time. The black eyes widened at the accusation and turned in Yuuri's direction when a bright bolt of energy escaped Yuuri and struck Tra'va in the chest. There wasn't even time to scream. Wolfram's body convulsed, caught in the blue stream of light, and fell directly into Murata's arms. Tears streamed down Wolfram's face.

The sage gave Yuuri a shocked, accusing stare as he cradled the limp form of Wolfram against his own body. "Yuuri…" he breathed.

"I didn't! I don't know… I…" the double black stammered back, panicked.

"Why didn't you stop The Maou?" Murata asked in a tone that was angry and cold, not like him at all. Without thinking, his fingers stroked the mop of tarnished gold hair.

"Usually, I can sense it, but…" Yuuri circled around to the bed and stared down with frightened, wide eyes. He didn't know what to do.

"Doesn't matter," Murata muttered darkly. With a great deal of effort, he stretched Wolfram's body out lengthwise on the bed, the wings splayed awkwardly underneath. He crawled onto the bed to be closer to the form. Then, he pressed an ear to Wolfram's chest and said a quick prayer in his head. "Heartbeat… That's good." He kept listening. He waited. "Come on…take a breath." The seconds ticked by. "A breath…just a little one…" Murata massaged the bare chest with a free hand. "Do it…"

_Please breathe!_ Yuuri thought. He could feel himself wanting to cry.

Murata fought to keep his voice even. "I may have to resuscitate him." Murata took the blond head in his hands and tilted it all the way back. He was about to pinch the nose shut when Wolfram's body inhaled sharply. Then, another, but softer, one followed. Pink eyes opened and immediately squeezed shut. "Shit," the spirit hissed. "Hurts…" The body curled up in a fetal position. Arms wrapped around knees.

Murata sat up and allowed his head to fall backwards in relief. "Tra'va?" he said quietly. "Can you hear me?" A gentle hand rested on a creamy shoulder; a thumb stroked it.

"I hear you," came the weak voice, edged in pain.

"You just gave us a pretty bad scare."

"Not my intention," Trouble said between clinched teeth. There was an unnerving, tingly feeling everywhere. It extended out. And there was an undoubtedly greasy, queasy, sensation, too, in the stomach. The spirit took another shallow breath and bit back a groan.

A brief knock at the door drew Yuuri and Murata's attention. Yozak and Conrad entered, chatting with each other amicably until they both caught sight of Wolfram's body curled up on the bed with Murata, face drained of color, kneeling next to him and Yuuri looking at them with frightened, black eyes.

"What happened?" Conrad demanded, stepping quickly to the bed with Yozak right behind him.

"The Maou wasn't particularly _pleased_ with something that Tra'va said. So, he…" Murata's black eyes turned to Yuuri. He'd let him finish the rest of the story.

Rattled, Yuuri looked to his godfather for support. "I had no idea that it was even possible to create a bolt of energy without turning entirely into The Maou."

Yozak felt drawn to the lonely figure. Slowly, he sat down on the far side of the bed, his mouth open slightly. Wolfram's body looked bad—pale and practically boneless with a reddening burn mark on the chest. "That had to be some bolt out of the blue."

A weak laugh came from Tra'va. "You have no idea," the spirit agreed. There was a slight smile as pinkish eyes opened a crack for the orange haired man.

"I could try to heal it. After all, I caused this," Yuuri said. He hoped it would ease the guilty conscience that kept nagging at him.

"No," Tra'va said and curled fingers around the hand Yozak offered. "With a little rest and some food, I'll be able to heal myself." The wings turned inward and wrapped around the body, making a tight, leathery cocoon that seemed impossible to unwrap. "No" meant "no." The spirit was stubborn.

"When a demon uses his own magic on himself, it can be very draining. And it takes longer to heal something like this," Murata said, trying not to notice the hand holding going on with Yozak. "You will probably have to put your pride aside and let Yuuri try." _Besides, you'll need to use Wolfram's healing magic to bring down your fever in a few hours. _

"But…" came a faint whine from the spirit.

"Who is your daytime husband?" Murata asked with a forced lilt in his voice. "If memory serves, you can deny me nothing."

A raspy chuckle answered. "Then, later…please," Tra'va said, letting go of the spy's hand. "I just want to sleep now."

"Everyone should go ahead and eat breakfast. I've already had mine, and I need a nap. So, I'll stay with Trouble," Yozak said to the group.

Conrad, Yuuri, and Murata murmured words of agreement. And while the suggestion was logical and practical, it didn't set well with the sage—who found himself feeling more and more accountable for the spirit. He wondered if Trouble was intentionally dividing his loyalties, or if it was just a relationship that started out as a joke on Yuuri only to end up being real and enjoyable based on similar experiences. His dark eyes went back to Trouble again. He thought, _Maybe it doesn't matter either way. She can read my mind. She knows what I like… and her kisses are addicting._

"But, I think you two had better get dressed first," Conrad observed and the two dark haired young men, still in their sleepwear, had to agree—even though it was reluctantly.

Yuuri opened his bag and searched through his things, feeling miserable. He felt responsible for what had happened to Trouble and even more so for Wolfram's body—which looked like it had a red, burned mark on the chest. The double black pulled out a shirt and trousers without giving them much thought.

"And Yuuri?" Trouble said, turning with an aching body in his direction.

Yuuri tensed up from the nerves, but he forced himself to turn his attention just the same.

"I have to admit…that was a pretty good punch The Maou delivered." It was followed by a pained chuckle. "I really should have been able to block it easily. I was just too mad at you at the time." The head rested back onto the bed to hide the growing embarrassment. "No hard feelings, right?"

Yuuri blinked at that. "I'm sorry, Tra'va…I really am," he said quietly. _Tra'va's a girl. Even in Wolfram's body, I hit a girl…_

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I could feel the power building and didn't make a barrier. That's all." Eyes closed again. "Oh, and bring me back an apple or something, will ya?"

He smiled with a nod. "Okay."

* * *

Conrad, Yuuri, and Murata all looked up as the prissy server approached with their breakfasts—oatmeal with cinnamon and apples. They had toast, too, that came from a large wheat loaf that had been sliced by hand. Butter and maple syrup followed.

The blue-green haired server put one hand on his hip and scanned the room. Giving up, he said to the table, "Here's the order for your…_companion_."

Murata, not liking the attitude and still feeling his dark mood from the morning's events, said with an even tone that he usually reserved for Shinou, "That will be fine." He accepted the small paper bag of fruit that consisted of two apples and two pears. "I'm sure my _husband_ will enjoy it very much when I take it back to our room."

The server flashed a disapproving look. "Too bad he's not here eating with you now."

"He's still in bed—tired."

Uncomfortable, Yuuri found himself immediately slouching down. This was exactly the kind of thing he feared most. Disapproval over a man having a husband. Well, that was his guess, anyway.

Murata's face turned to Yuuri, equally stern. "Am I right, Shibuya? Don't you think he'll like it?"

"Umm…yeah," Yuuri agreed quickly. Then he thought_, Except that your "husband" is really a "wife" under it all. And the body is my accidental fiancé._

"I didn't realize that he was your husband," the server said with a slight smirk. "He seemed to be the center of attention…quite _popular_, in fact…with the whole table."

Murata read the implication even if Yuuri was oblivious—which he was. Conrad caught it, too, and felt insulted that his baby brother was being referred to indirectly as a "minx" or a "slut."

A smile, totally forced and laced with malice, came to Murata's lips. "My husband is quite beautiful. So, it would be _unnatural_ for anyone not to be drawn to him." _I just called you an "asexual deviant" if you haven't noticed._

The server's eyebrows pushed together angrily at that. Yes, he got it and walked off in a huff.

Ignoring the scene, Conrad took the small earthenware pitcher of juice and poured glasses for everyone.

"What just happened here?" Yuuri asked, scratching his raven head.

Conrad and Murata locked eyes with the same exasperated look.

"He's really that naïve, huh?" Murata practically groaned.

"I'm afraid so."

Deep inside Yuuri, The Maou laughed.

* * *

Yozak closed the gap between the curtains. The room darkened a little. But with the material being so thin, the sunlight peeked through the fabric anyway.

The spy removed his faun colored tunic top, the black shirt beneath it, and kicked off his shoes. "You know, I've got two of these outfits with me. Both the same."

"You look good like that," Trouble said, opening an eye to watch him undress and appreciating the show.

"Of course, I've brought along a few disguises, too. And, there's my lucky dress. It's gotten me out of too many bad situations. Gotta have that with me."

"I agree," came the sigh. There was a peaceful look on Wolfram's face with a smile hinting on the lips. The leathery wings slowly unwrapped the lithe body—falling back in folds.

Yozak was down to his black trousers now. "I suppose I could sleep in these." Back at the castle, he preferred to sleep in nothing at all. He was much more comfortable that way—nothing binding him or holding him down.

"You don't have to." Then, looking down the spirit said, "But Yuuri's so particular about what to sleep in that I'm still in this thing." Trouble snapped the waistband of the boxers.

"Yeah, I noticed," he said cheerfully and tucked some orange hair behind his right ear. "And," he said with a slight shrug, "you seem to be feeling a bit better. That's a relief." He moved to the bed Yuuri had been sleeping in. "I think I'll take this one."

"Could I ask a favor?" Tra'va murmured quietly.

"Sure," he said with confidence. It was probably a request for a glass of water or something.

"Could you sleep with me…in this bed?"

Yozak tilted his head to the side and smirked a little. "Is that an offer?"

A smile with little fangs answered him.

"I think you're too sick, Trouble. And that blow that The Maou gave you didn't help matters, did it?"

"I'm feeling better…actually…maybe…kind of." Wolfram's body stretched out on the bed again, but shakily, and the spirit hovered a palm over the center of the chest. "It burns here, too…"

A green glow followed. Trouble sighed in relief.

Yozak frowned.

"I think you need to stop that. Let the kiddo try to heal you when he comes back with your breakfast." Trouble ignored it, turning a pale face away and looking at the curtains. The eerie glow intensified in the dim room. Yozak took Wolfram's narrow wrist in his hand. The light faded immediately. Yozak bent down and said gently, "Stop it."

"As you say…"

With that, Yozak released his hold.

Trouble pulled back the covers a little more, crawled in, and said, "Then, you'll just have to lie next to me to keep me from trying to heal myself again."

Yozak sighed openly, and a little too dramatically. It got him another smirk—which was his goal. Then, he got into the bed next to the blond. "Persistent, aren't you?" The tone had gone up a notch to 'flirtatious.'

A pinkish eye regarded him. "Hold me?"

"And why should I?" Yozak asked, fluffing the pillow.

"Because I'm a sick person and you have to humor me?" There was a toothy grin that followed.

"My…my…" Yozak said, pretending to be put out. He took Tra'va into his arms, careful not to crush the folded wings. He felt the body immediately snuggle into his chest. Beefy arms around Wolfram's narrow shoulders followed. Together, they were so warm.

The orange haired spy slowly released the breath he was holding. Never in his wildest nightmares would he have imagined this scene—alone in a room—no, _alone in a bed_—with Conrad's little brother who smelled vaguely of jasmine and sunflowers. He felt the lithe body snuggle into him again. It was trying to get comfortable against him.

"Yozak?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you." A soft purring sound came to the spy's ears.

"Go to sleep now…and dream…"

"Dream…? Then, that will be my gift to you," Tra'va said softly, "for your kindness."

"Oh really?" Yozak said, fighting back a yawn. "And what, pray tell, will I dream of?"

The blond head rested against Yozak's shoulder. "I'll have you dream of the person you desire most in all the world…"

"And that would be…you, maybe?" Yozak was amused by it all, but sleepy. His body felt heavy. His eyelids tugged down. Soon, his breathing changed, slowed down to a soft, rolling rhythm.

"No, Yozak… It isn't… You gave your heart away to another long before you met me."

He began to snore.

The blond quirked a smile and relaxed, enjoying the sound of a man at peace.

A small purple glow came from the palm of Trouble's hand. It formed into a ball of light, floated upwards, and rested on Yozak's temple. Like a soap bubble, it popped. Then, Yozak turned his head. His eyes moved under the lids. He was dreaming—a light, comfortable dream with the sound of his dearest love's voice coming to him. The sky was a blue so bright that it hurt to look at it. The village beyond the gates of Blood Pledge Castle bustled with people and carts rumbling down the road. The voice returned. "Yozak?" it called. "Are you coming along or not?" He answered "yes" back and quickened his steps to catch up. "Did you bring the cards, Yozak? I'll buy the ale."

Still dreaming, the orange haired spy held on to Trouble a little tighter and whispered, "Love you."

"You're welcome, Yozak," Tra'va said quietly in the dark. "You're welcome."

It had been two hours since Yuuri, Murata, and Conrad had left to go eat breakfast. Tra'va guessed that they had eaten and gone shopping or decided to roam the town while Yozak slept.

Tra'va dozed for only an hour and then got up again—the burn mark annoying every move the spirit made. And being cuddled up against Yozak, while delicious, irritated the skin. The spirit felt like they were starting to stick together—literally. So, Tra'va got out of the bed and took the chair by the window, pulling back the curtain enough to get a peek outside.

The thought of trying to heal the burn occurred to the spirit. But a promise to Yozak was a promise. He was a "husband." And their relationship, even if temporary, deserved that much respect at least.

The spirit slumped in the chair. Tra'va fanned the burned mark with the tip of a wing. The slight breeze felt good, but wasn't a permanent remedy.

Pink eyes suddenly narrowed into slits.

"Oh, those auras don't feel good…not good at all. Now, where are they coming from?"

Pinkish eyes searched for the owners of two more auras. These were black with traces of muddy red leaking through.

"Black auras, huh?" the spirit said, looking down and seeing two humans dressed in homespun indigo trousers and tawny colored shirts. "And you both go to the same tailor or something?" The self-satisfied smirk of a competitor came to Wolfram's face. "So, what are you two hiding?" When the one on the right pocketed a red, palm sized stone, the spirit's face broke into a smile. "So, you guys are following us…" Tra'va crossed legs in a girlish fashion with the knee kicking slightly. "With a rock like that, you're connected to those guys we tied up to the tree. Hmmm… I knew it was a mistake to just play with them. I should have searched their hearts for information before leaving. That was my fault entirely. I just wasn't ready for Yuuri and his group to know that I could do that with a single touch." The spirit tossed blond bangs aside with a sweep of the fingers. "This could be a problem if these guys know we're here. I don't like delays."

The two men below stepped forward and tried to be casual, leaning against the building while their eyes took everything in. They each lit cigarettes.

"Good… You smoke," Trouble said quietly. "That stench will be easy for me to sense on the wind. And, being smokers, you'll never know just how bad you really smell. So, keep it up, boys."

One of the men made a hand motion that resembled putting a drink to his lips and disappeared inside the tavern.

"Okay…that's a problem…" Wolfram's nose wrinkled at that. _If these two geniuses decide to search all of the buildings on this street… _With a bit of a stretch, the spirit stood up from the chair. "I guess, it's time for me to go walk-about."

"And why would you need to do that?" Yozak asked, sitting up in the bed and trying to cover a yawn. His cuddle buddy was missing and the warmth, too. So, he woke up.

_Eh? Oh, you're up…_ A toothy grin came to Tra'va. "Gotta pee. And the bathroom's down the hall."

"Why don't I believe you?" Yozak said, beefy arms folded. He was looking absolutely scrumptious sitting up in the bed with his shirt off.

Distracted, Trouble stared at him, and tried to commit the sexy image to memory. Maybe, when he got his body back, Wolfram would come to appreciate this. Either that, or he'd be embarrassed as hell. Both prospects were good, really.

"Okay…you've got me," Trouble said and tried very hard to look slightly embarrassed. "I can hear the call of the road again…feel the pull of the shrine." It was true. Tra'va did. But there were still several days ahead before the deadline. "And, then, there's a part of me that just can't stay in one place." Trouble turned away from Yozak. "It's hard to explain and I don't expect you to understand." Actually, Trouble did. From touching Yozak—leaning against him and being held in his arms—it was all too clear that Yozak wasn't the type of man to stay in one place for very long. It was only his firm tie to Blood Pledge Castle, and the people in it, that kept him coming back. Turning to watch the spy's face, Trouble said, "I wasn't trying to run away. You'd find me quickly enough if I did." Then, the spirit approached the bed with a sensuous sway and sat on the end of it, very close to Yozak. "But I would like to go out…somehow…without attracting attention."

"Why?" It was said with a tone that mixed suspicion with sex appeal. Yes, Yozak could play this game, too, very well.

Trouble traced the curve of the spy's face with a delicate finger. It left a soft, shimmering trail of purple light on the skin. Yozak's eyes widened. He tried to remind himself that this was Wolfram's body. Wolfram! The loud brat who chased after Yuuri shamelessly. All of his thoughts flew out the window as the finger touched his face again, following the same path. It was such a simple motion, a simple touch. _That feels…damn good._ He wanted to turn away, but just couldn't. His skin begged for more. Tra'va smiled and traced the shimmering path again. The spy leaned into the touch that time. He just couldn't help himself.

A pale face with blond hair whispered into his ear, "These wings of mine will attract attention. I need a cape or something." Wolfram's fingers touched a sensitive spot behind Yozak's ear and traced a line down his neck to his shoulder.

Strong arms caught Tra'va around the waist and hoisted the spirit into the bed. The body, caught off balance, fell onto the mattress with limbs and wings tossed about haphazardly. The face held an expression of pure shock and surprise with the mouth making an adorable "o," which, in turn, made the spy smile as he shifted his body on top.

"We'll go shopping. I know a good store." Blue eyes had a lustful haze to them. "When we're done here." Yozak's wide hand laced with a much smaller one underneath.

Trouble giggled girlishly.

* * *

"I think we should be heading back to our room soon."

"Don't worry," Tra'va said cheerfully, "I left them a note, remember?"

The little bell chimed at the top of the doorway as Yozak and Tra'va left the rickety, but pleasantly discrete, shop on the edge of town. The spirit wore a new midnight blue hooded cape that fell in thick folds past the knees. It made the tarnished blond hair seem a bit brighter. The spy eyed the hair color and, somewhere deep down, he missed the Wolfram that he knew—with bright hair and fiery temper. Conrad was always so fond of the brat. And it was probably for Conrad's sake that he felt that way.

Side by side, they walked down the cobblestone steps. "I buy some of my disguises here when I'm passing through. And I'm glad they were open today. It beats having you try to hide your wings under your clothes," the spy said while tugging at his collar to cover a love bite that Tra'va had given him.

The spy straightened his shoulders and tried to force a cheerful tone into his voice. "I think we go this way." For reasons he couldn't fathom, he felt somewhat guilty for his make out session with Trouble earlier on. He glanced at Wolfram's profile. There was a smug look.

The orange haired man sighed a little to himself. No, it wasn't Tra'va who was at fault. In fact, Yozak knew that he always felt this way after being with someone—even if it had gone farther than making out on top of the bed. Luckily, this time, he realized what he was doing and stopped. He wasn't into _threesomes_. And, with Trouble and Wolfram in the same body, the bed was a wee bit crowded.

Tra'va walked along with a jaunty step in the flowing, new cape and caught Yozak turning his head forward. _Yes, it may take a minute or two, but I can turn a man on…and I can turn him off…just as easily. Even in a male body, I've still got it. _The smile widened. _But I shouldn't take things too far. Wolfram's heart is numb right now. He doesn't care what I do. But I could shatter his soul if I did something that he would be very much opposed to._

Tra'va's smile faded at the thought of Wolfram and everything he'd gone through. "I think Yuuri is sorry, though, Wolfram…" Trouble whispered to the soul daydreaming within her. "_And he thinks about you…often…"_

"_But, it's not enough," Wolfram's voice said back. "It never is."_

"I know."

"Hm?" Yozak said, hearing the voice but not the words. His face tried to look cheerful.

"Nothing." It was followed by a shake of the head.

"Tra'va," Yozak said, "I wish you had allowed me to buy you that." He motioned to the cape.

"Oh, no," Tra'va said and pulled out a small bag of gold coins from a pocket. "I had this money on me to offer to Wolfram for the use of his body. But he refused."

"He refused money? Well, that's not surprising. He's wealthy."

"I know that now," Trouble said with a slight upturn of the lips. "He also refused these." The spirit reached in and retrieved another small bag. This one was velvet, brown, and opened to reveal four opals the size of marbles. "He said 'no' to these as well when I suggested them..." Tra'va put the small bags back and walked along with hands shoved into deep pockets. "I offered him the usual…the things that people want in exchange: knowledge, health, power… He turned me down every time."

"Really?" Yozak said, intrigued. This was something he'd definitely share with Conrad later, the next time they could be alone.

"He asked for something as payment. It was odd. Unusual. I thought it would be easy, but…now…it's turning out to be harder than I thought. And I'm not sure I'll be done by the time I get to the holy shrine."

"And that would be…?" Yozak asked with a hopeful tone.

"I'm not supposed to say." Blond hair shook "no" in his direction. "Wolfram asked for that, too."

Yozak's face seemed to suggest that he'd press harder for an answer. It was certainly tempting for him.

He wasn't met with a look of defiance, but quite the opposite. "With some effort, you could probably force the information from me," the spirit said, eyeing him, "but that would be betraying a confidence. Only if Yuuri asks, can I say something."

They walked along until Trouble stopped. The spirit simply quit moving, and then the head turned, searching.

"Something?" Yozak asked. He was an expert at looking around without appearing to "look." His casual glances told him nothing.

"We're being followed again."

"By those guys?" The orange haired man frowned. He turned, as though having a casual chat with Tra'va, but kept his eyes open. A strand of Wolfram's blond hair blew into his eyes. Tenderly, Yozak stroked the hair back. "I thought you took care of them at the tree," he said in a low voice.

"I did take care of them. These two buggers are new." The edge in Trouble's voice meant that no kidding was involved. "And, by now, they probably know what we look like."

The black auras got closer, ready to turn the corner.

"This way!" Tra'va grabbed Yozak's hand and yanked him into the alley. "Crap!" the spirit cursed almost immediately. Three steps into it, it was obvious that the empty alley was a dead end. They both searched for doors and tried them, but they were bolted shut. The windows of the buildings had black, iron bars as well.

The spirit edged back, looking to the entrance where the road beyond was empty of people.

"We'll have to fight our way," Yozak said, cracking his knuckles. "I really wish I had a sword, though."

"I can't." Tra'va tried to hide the panicked tone by adding a deep, throaty growl. A little fang poked out. "I'm using up too much energy to do all of this. If I'm not careful, I'm going to run out of magic before I get to the shrine and I won't have enough energy to merge with it."

"Then, I'll fight for my husband's honor," Yozak teased. He hoped that the positive note would rub off on Tra'va.

Instead, the eyes turned a dusty rose color. "I'll have to get you out of here…somehow…Wolfram, on the other hand…probably won't…"

"No, we'll make it together."

The face that turned up to Yozak was sincere, sad. "I'm not worth it, my husband," the spirit said with an expression that showed hopelessness. "In life…as in death…I was never a good person. But, then again, I never pretended to be." Like a sleepwalker, Wolfram's body took steps forward. "I'll protect you for as long as I can. One of them has those red stones…just like the ones from earlier that Murata is keeping safe."

Yozak clenched his fist briefly. "We are not giving up. We'll get out of here. You'll see." He took quick steps behind the spirit and placed a comforting hand on a narrow shoulder.

"No, I can't," Wolfram's voice whispered. Maybe, if Wolfram's voice said it, the spy would accept "no." Wolfram wasn't one of Yozak's favorite people.

Instead, the fingers dug in to keep the spirit from going any further. "Like I told you, you'll see."

"See…" Trouble echoed. Then the expression changed. It was slow, but it changed—much to Yozak's relief. The lips twitched up until a sneaky grin appeared. "I think 'see' is the perfect description for this."

"I don't follow…" He scratched his head.

"I feel a sin coming on!" It was followed by a bright, toothy grin with little fangs.

"Fly out of here?" Yozak said, tilting his head up.

"No, thanks to Yuuri, I haven't recovered enough. But there is something just as fun."

Tra'va grabbed Yozak by the waist and pushed him into the brick wall to the left. The cape was flung back enough to hide the leathery wings.

"What are you…? Trouble, we don't have time for this!"

"Yes, we do!" The tone was firm. "Just do what I say, okay?"

Yozak blinked in confusion. _What in the…?_

The scent of tobacco smoke on the wind made a delicate nose twitch. "Damn, they're almost here. Gotta do my stuff." Purple and black bands of energy wrapped around Tra'va. The body shifted upward a few centimeters, and the brassy gold hair turned red and spilled down the sides of the shoulders. The face had skin the color of mocha with sexy, narrowed features. Plump breasts pressed against Yozak's chest in the kind of bouncy way that Lady Cheri's did. Yes, Yozak had a drunken moment "alone" with her, too, long ago.

"Ummm…did I ever mention that I'm a girl?"

Yozak's mouth fell open. "You're a …!"

"I guess…not." There was a short giggle. "Okay, Yozak!" Tra'va pulled back the long, straight red hair and flung it to the side. "Put your arms around me and kiss my neck."

"Wha-?" His mind still couldn't accept it_. 'He'…is a …'she.'_

"They're almost here! Kiss my neck!" The spirit's eyes stared at the wide gap between the buildings that showed the lonely street beyond. "Just do it!"

There was a gentle hand on her waist, but Yozak was not doing this quickly enough.

"Yozak!" Tra'va barked, "Pretend that I'm Conrad and ravish my neck, you fool!"

"Wait! How did you know about…"

Pink eyes turned blood red. She wasn't kidding. Now was not the time for questions. He grabbed the spirit's waist with both hands and sunk his teeth lightly into the mocha neck.

Tra'va practically purred with pleasure.

"Hands lower around my waist, dig your fingers into the material, and turn your back more to the street," the spirit said through gritted teeth.

Hearing footsteps, Tra'va unbuttoned the top three buttons of Wolfram's shirt and glanced over her shoulder. Yes, the cape covered the wings well and hung like a curtain from behind. So, very little of it was visible.

"Pretend that you're enjoying this," Tra'va hissed.

"Then, deepen your voice if you want me to pretend you're Conrad."

"I'd turn into Conrad if I had the body mass to pull it off. But it wouldn't matter either way because they've probably seen Conrad, too, unlike me…." Then a thought struck. "Does Conrad know how you feel about him?"

Yozak nipped particularly hard and drew blood. He could smell it on her skin. He cringed, regretting it.

"Ahh!" Tra'va practically shouted. Pink eyes watered in pain. Nonetheless, it got the attention of two men who had been loitering on the street a few steps away. They were the same ones that Trouble had seen outside the hotel. But, now, they were armed with red stones.

The spirit moaned, clawed at orange hair and wrapped one leg around the spy, "What's your hurry? I mean-" and then pretended to open her eyes for the first time. "Oi! Can't a girl get a little _privacy_ around here?!" She glared dangerously at the two men carrying red rocks in their fists—who, in turn, seemed shocked to see them. Surprised and slightly embarrassed, the men wandered off saying, "We must have lost them" and "I wonder how much that hooker charged that guy."

"Hooker?" Tra'va fumed, letting go of Yozak. "I can't believe that they think I'm for sale!" She pointed in the direction that they'd left.

"Let's go!" Yozak said, taking the spirit by the hand and leading her away. "Your plan worked, you should be grateful."

"My plan sucked. And you bite hard!"

"I'm sorry," Yozak said, tugging her along.

"Now, I'm pissed off and turned on…_damn it!_"

* * *

Back in the room, Yuuri picked up the note on his bed. He tilted his head right and left in confusion. From the side, Conrad glanced over at it and scratched his head. "I can't make out what it ways."

Yuuri nodded, "Yeah."

"Let me see," the sage said and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Then, he smiled. "Well, I'd be surprised if either one of you knew how to read this. It's written in Old Mazoku. The syntax, grammar, and symbol systems were different back in those days. My guess is that Tra'va learned how to write from a previous host—eons ago."

"What does it say?" Yuuri asked.

"It's been awhile…but, let's see…"

.

.

.

_Yuuri Heika,_

_Yozak is forcing me to write this note because he won't take me shopping until I do. I need to buy a cape and, if you don't like it, then you can burn a second mark into my chest and kiss my borrowed body's perfect little plump ass while you're at it. _

_With deepest affection, _

_Tra'va_

_Additional: I'm sure that if I get any more love bites from Murata, you'll be happy to point them out, too. I'll bet he's a much better kisser than you are. Hugs_

.

.

.

Murata tugged at his collar nervously and his eyes widened a bit. "I'll have to paraphrase it. Yeah, that's it… The old terms simply don't translate very well."

Conrad and Yuuri nodded.

"It says… 'Gone shopping with Yozak'… 'back soon'… 'sincerely yours'… 'Tra'va.'"

"Really?" Yuuri said, giving his raven hair a thoughtful scratch. "It just looks like Trouble wrote a lot more than that."

"Old Mazoku is…really…kind of…ummm…formal…very formal." He gritted his teeth into a smile. _Yuuri knows that I've been giving Tra'va love bites! Which also means I've been giving Wolfram love bites!_

"Oh," Yuuri said, "kind of like in Japanese."

Crushing the note into a ball, Murata said, "Trust me, Shibuya, this is nothing like Japanese."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"We have trouble," Yozak said, coming through the door and dragging the spirit along behind him.

"I know that," Yuuri said back with a slight shrug.

Yozak looked at the hand he was holding, which was pale, followed the arm up to the shoulder and then the face. He did a double take. Wolfram's blond features and fair face smiled back at him. "When did you change into Wolfram?" he asked and got a puzzled look from everyone else in the room.

"It takes a bit of effort to show my true form," the spirit said forcing the smile to remain, "so, I just switched back when you weren't looking." It was followed by a wink.

"I don't follow," Murata said, his expression stern. As he expected, Tra'va's cheerfulness melted away, as did her girlish enthusiasm.

"Two jerks were following us," the spirit said, rubbing her glassy eyes for a second. "So, Yozak and I tricked them into thinking we were someone else. But, to do that, I had to show my true form." Wolfram's pale face glanced across at Murata. "They hadn't seen what I really look like. So, they didn't recognize us, and we gave them the slip."

"True form?" Conrad said with a hint of worry. It didn't sound good.

"I'm a girl!" Tra'va said with a pinkish blush and tucked a blond strand of Wolfram's hair behind an ear. There was a sudden feminine wiggle to the hips, too.

"A…girl…?" Conrad parroted and gave a quick glance to Yozak, who nodded back to him, if only reluctantly. "I can solemnly swear," Yozak said while praying that a guilty expression wasn't coming to him, "that Trouble's a girl."

"In Wolfram's body…?" Conrad murmured.

"Wanna see?" Tra'va tilted Wolfram's head to one side and gave a smirk.

"I don't think so," Yuuri cut in, tugging at his collar nervously. _And what I have seen was half naked and wrapped around Murata tightly. Not that he minded at all…_ A frown was directed at the sage, who looked away just as quickly.

Trouble, who could feel Yuuri's tension growing, turned from the others and raked fingers through a mop of damp, blond hair.

"Tell us more about those men who were following you," Conrad said, placing a brotherly hand on Wolfram's shoulder. Pink eyes turned to emerald green at the touch. Conrad's eyes widened for a second, surprised. Then, he smiled a real smile, not one of the practiced smiles that he saved for just about everyone else except Yuuri. It was like a secret only the two of them shared. Yes, Wolfram was inside, "buried" but still inside, and watching them when he wanted to.

All too soon, the green color faded away and Trouble said, "They're human. Their auras are black—which means they're hiding something deadly. But, at times, I can see a kind of 'muddy red' in their auras as well. And there's a bloodlust to them. But they're cowards deep down. They're relying too much on those red rocks to save them when a situation goes sour."

"What do they want?" the sage asked.

There was a shrug at that. The spirit didn't want to answer, but decided it was probably for the best to tell it all because the question was asked by Murata. "I-I don't…know."

Murata raised a skeptical eyebrow. The piercing black eyes told her that he wasn't buying it all. Maybe, it was the unexpected stutter. But she was still debating within herself how to answer.

_It's easier, this time, to be honest. _"Husband, I truly don't know." The words were sincere and the sage felt almost satisfied. _Do it now in front of everyone, I suppose._ "You see," Tra'va continued with a bit of fatigue, "I would have to touch them to read their intentions."

"Wait… Can you do that to everyone you touch?" Yozak asked, now getting a much better picture of his so called "wife's" magical gifts.

He got a nod. "I can see more than just Wolfram's heart. If I touch you, I can learn anything that I want." It was blunt, honest, and true. But, to the spirit's chagrin, it also flared sparks of uncertainty and fear in everyone around her. She could feel the agitation without even trying_. I suppose I could have phrased that better. But, then again, maybe I'm growing too attached to these guys_. She studied Murata's face for a second. He was definitely trying to hide his feelings even though he knew far more than the rest of them. _No, this is good, _she told herself_, it reminds me of where I stand with them._

Downstairs, music started blaring and a small chorus began singing a rowdy pub song. Feet stomped and the rhythm was picked up by the other patrons.

Trouble stared a hole into the floor. "I see the bachelor party has started. I overheard someone in the hall bathroom talking about it on his way out." There was a wry smile from Wolfram's lips that made Yuuri uncomfortable. He wanted to take a step back but forced himself to stay.

"It doesn't concern us, though," the spirit finished. There was a far away look in pinkish eyes, and Murata frowned a little at that. "Here's another question…" the sage said in an effort to get Trouble back on track, "Can you trace their auras?"

"Yes," Tra'va said, "but I don't know why you'd want me to. We can just leave."

"If I knew where they're hiding, I could keep an eye on them and learn more about what they're up to," Yozak said, happy with the idea of having some real work to do. He'd been with this little traveling group too long and the overwhelming urge to be on his own was coming back to him.

The sage took his glasses off and polished them against his chest. "It would be helpful to see if they're after Morgif, the way the other two were," Murata said, putting his glasses back on his face again.

At the mention of his name, Morgif moaned from under the bed. Yuuri knelt down to discover that the sword had a significant dust bunny collection sticking to him. Morgif tried to blow them away, but the bunnies only laughed at him and rolled onto the sheath with chibi glee.

"I've seen their faces and their auras are unique," Trouble said without a shred of enthusiasm. "I could track them down even in the dark."

The music and dancing downstairs spiked up again—creating a joyful cacophony of men's voices, some old and some young, some on key and some not, and all horribly out of sync—but mirthful nonetheless. It only dampened the spirit's mood even more.

"So, what are you not telling us?" Yuuri asked pointedly, doing his best to ignore the stomping match going on below their room. Tra'va's dour expression was annoying him more than the glib and snotty Trouble that he'd grown used to.

Pink eyes rolled at the question. "I don't have much time left and the shrine is not that far from here." _And my energy is low thanks to using magic and getting burned in the chest. _Wolfram's lithe form went to the window and drew the curtain back. "I think the holy place is just over the border and I can feel the pull even now."

"We still have a few days, though…right?" Murata said, trying to sound cheerful so that she'd go along with the plan. "So, I'll book this room for another night. At dusk, why don't you and Yozak try to do some tracking?"

"As you say," Trouble answered as a sigh, looking at him. "I can refuse you nothing."

The words were hollow and, for the first time, Murata realized that he was forcing her. He felt a little guilty at that. But if he could know what the enemy was up to, he could prepare a way out. Besides, if he didn't push for an investigation, Yuuri certainly would.

Morgif could possibly be on the line here. It was necessary to at least look into the situation.

The blond turned back to the window and watched the street below_. I can understand why Wolfram feels so lonely with these guys. Going out of the way for a stupid adventure can get them killed. They just don't see it…or don't want to see it. Yuuri is the king! They should be protecting him. Instead, they want to investigate everything without considering the consequences of doing it. More importantly, I have no say in what goes on. This isn't fun anymore._

"Trouble?" Yuuri said, watching her. Some part of him felt worried. He didn't know why.

"I'll do it," Tra'va said bitterly, "but don't ask me to like it."

* * *

The group broke up. Conrad and Yozak went downstairs to get something to snack on if they could just get past the crazy bachelor party going on. But, Trouble wasn't tricked by it at all. Their auras quickly reappeared in the hallway. They were probably chatting about her right now.

Pink eyes turned to the paper bag that suddenly materialized in front of her.

"I think this was supposed to be your breakfast. Sorry about that," he said with a smile. The bag dangled in one hand while Murata scratched his raven hair sheepishly with the other.

"Thank you." Wolfram's voice responded but with an animalistic growl behind it. Trouble decided to stop sounding human when it wasn't necessary. Conserving as much energy as possible was the next goal.

The spirit turned away from them and took off the cape one handed. With a flair, it was draped against the chair next to the bed. And Wolfram's body sat down on the bed nearest the window and opened the bag lethargically.

Just staring at the figure, Yuuri felt himself missing Wolfram all over again. The form on the bed was cute—very cute. And, when a bite was taken out of the green pear, the blond's jaw moved slowly. It was a sensuous movement without ever meaning to be. Blond locks spilled to one side. The eyes closed with the next bite and, if only for a second, Yuuri imagined Trouble gone and Wolfram back—sitting there, just the two of them again. The double black felt drawn to it.

"I'm sorry that you're not happy about the plan, Tra'va," Murata said, interrupting Yuuri's thoughts. The sage hoped to engage the blond in conversation. It would lower the stress in the room and make things better.

"I'll do as you say," the spirit repeated with a sigh. "I think I'll take another nap, though."

"You've been sleeping a lot," Yuuri observed and, for the first time, Murata started to grow concerned at that. The sage gave Tra'va a closer look. The skin was damp as was the hair. The fever blush was back with the glassy, pinkish eyes. The body seemed slack, tired.

"Fine, I'll stay awake," the spirit said and forced the body up again, taking another bite of the pear before dropping the half eaten fruit back into the bag with disinterest.

"No, that's not what I mean," Yuuri said, his hands waving in front of him defensively. He tried smiling the same kind of sheepish smile that usually irritated Wolfram. Like Murata, he was certain that something was wrong but decided to keep his mouth closed about it in the short-term. "Sleep if you need to."

"Thank you," Trouble said quietly and curled up on top of the bed covers in kittenish fashion. "Could someone come back and wake me in a few hours?"

Murata's eyes narrowed at that. _Hmmm… 'Translation: Leave me alone while I sleep.' Tra'va's probably going to use Wolfram's magic to get rid of the fever again. But, what was that purple light that I saw? It was definitely not healing magic. It seemed almost…destructive and painful._

"I'll stay with you," Murata said and got an instant frown from Yuuri. Deciding to push Yuuri a little, he said, "Is there a problem with that, Shibuya?"

"Ummm…no," Yuuri said, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the question. He glanced at the blond on the bed. "I just think that it's best to let someone rest. That's all."

Pinkish eyes opened at that. There was a look of victory. The eyes closed again.

"This way," Murata said, taking Yuuri by the arm. Before the double black could say anything, the sage escorted him out the door and shut it smartly.

"Finally," Trouble groaned. She sat up with some effort while she tried to ignore the nagging aches all over that could have used a good massage. A palm made a green light across the forehead and the spirit sighed in relief. "Okay, fever…stop spiking… This skin feels like a blast furnace." The cooling green light felt great and the spirit slumped back down on her right side with her back to the door. Wolfram's now pasty face turned in the direction of the cool breeze floating in from the window.

The spirit raised the left hand in the air and lowered the index, middle, and ring fingers—making a "y." Then, the hand was pressed against Wolfram's chest with a purple glow spilling out. "Ouch-ch-ch," Tra'va complained. The muscles tightened and pulled. A strong cramp in the middle of the chest latched on. "Damn!"

"What are you doing?" Murata demanded, walking briskly to the bed. "What is that purple light?"

Caught in a haze of pain, Trouble simply stared at him. "I thought…I felt you on the other side of the door. I was an idiot for not looking."

The sage ignored it and sat on the edge of the bed that bed Yuuri slept in. Murata leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. "This isn't the first time I've seen you use that purple light on Wolfram's chest. So, are you going to answer or not?"

Trouble thought about it—becoming defensive with arms folded across the chest. It was also a convenient way to put pressure on the muscles that were tight and aching.

Black eyes stared deeply into pink ones.

Seeing that her answers were not forthcoming, Murata added, "Aren't you going to tell me, my husband…or is it 'wife,' now?"

"Would gender really matter?" There was pain in the voice.

"I suppose not."

"Gender matters to some people." Murata frowned at the reference to Yuuri. The sage began to suspect that Trouble wasn't just peeking into Wolfram's heart from time to time, but had actually read through it—knowing everything about all of them from the blond's perspective.

Then a slight, fanged smile was shot at him and Murata features went blank. The spirit said, "If I tell you…then, as my spouse, you cannot tell anyone else. That's the spousal contract. You can't testify against me…and Yuuri Heika…is _your_ _law_ among the Mazoku."

Black eyes widened. "It's that bad, isn't it?"

The look was ambivalent. "Let's just say 'good' and 'bad' can often be defined according to context and perspective."

"I'm not going to have a philosophical argument with you," the sage said with a hint of pride. "I'd win that one."

"Maybe…maybe, you should have tried to have one with Wolfram…to let him see the situation more clearly."

"What do you mean?" Murata said, eyebrows pushed together.

"Then, tell me this, _husband_…" Tra'va said with a face that looked like anger was boiling blow the surface. "Why do you think that it was so easy for me to get this body?"

Murata gave a confused shrug.

"_Husband_, why could I simply reach out and take what I was so desperate for?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be able to journey. You'd, in essence, fail in your quest and your spirit would die."

"I'd be sent to the void, yes." Blond hair nodded at that. But it was an angry nod. "Still, this body was _easy_ to take, Murata," she said. "In fact, it was the easiest." And the sage's anxiety went up. "It was so simple! All I had to do was take hold of Wolfram's heart. I grabbed it and searched for the most painful memories I could find. And, do you know what I found?"

The sage's mouth felt dry. He had a very good idea of what Trouble found.

"I found Yuuri Heika—his face, first glimpses of him, little moments that would mean nothing to anybody else. I found pain and torment…despair and hope…" Tra'va laughed bitterly at that, pushing a fist against Wolfram's chest again because the agony had returned, but not physical agony alone. "False hope is a torment all its own. How else could I have learned about Kumiko?"

With the doubled up a fist, the spirit continued to keep up pressure in the center of Wolfram's chest. It only diminished the pain a little. The blond head fell forward weakly. "I'm tired of feeling like this. I can't wait to get to the shrine," Tra'va confessed. Wolfram's face was turning white as a sheet.

Murata moved to the same bed with the spirit, now slumped over even more. "Tra'va?" he said and stroked the damp hair. "Is that purple light supposed to stop the pain you're going through?"

"No," she rasped.

The sage's eyes widened again. He leaned down to make eye contact. Carefully, he asked, "Are you actually…_causing_ the pain?"

The spirit raised Wolfram's head in what she had hoped would be an act of defiance. It was her way, after all. But, inside, Wolfram betrayed that and a single tear spilled out of the right eye. Tra'va felt its warmth and she caved in. "It feels like knives being raked into me…and the muscles pull and tighten." The blond head rested on Murata's shoulder. Shocked, he still managed to put an arm around the narrow shoulders.

"I want…" she hissed with the next waive of pain "…to stop…but I can't."

"Why?" Murata asked, folding her in his arms.

"It's the price I had to pay to use this body…the price Wolfram requested." The spirit was breathing hard, breathing through the pain. "But, it's so difficult to do this with precision and still shield Wolfram from the agony so that he only feels numb."

"Then, stop," Murata ordered.

"I'm half way done," Tra'va said. "I just…"

The sage shook his head. "As your husband, I'm ordering you to stop." He raised Wolfram's face and wiped the warm, salty path that shined from Wolfram's eye. "I'm telling you to do as I say."

"But he needs this… I have to repay."

The sage gripped her. "I think you've done enough to repay Wolfram. It was a crazy idea to begin with. I think punishing him…or maybe 'self-torture' would be more accurate…for being a fool and loving Shibuya isn't going to help—ever. Just because someone doesn't love you back…it doesn't mean that you can hurt yourself." He held Tra'va closer.

"That's not what I'm doing," Tra'va said. The head pounding was brief and the cramped muscles were beginning to relax.

"Then, what are you doing?" Yuuri demanded, swinging the door open. "And I suppose, if you thought Murata was on the other side of the door with me, then it should be no surprise that I'm still here."

Trouble buried a tired face into Murata's shoulder. "Damn…" Tra'va took a shaky breath and let it out. "I'm sorry, Wolfram. I really am." _I just can't think straight feeling this way._

"Tell me," Yuuri repeated, approaching the bed. He knelt down beside it but had a furious expression on his face. "What was the deal you made with Wolfram? Obviously, he was weak and in pain. You took advantage of that so that you could have a host. So, what was the deal?"

Angry eyes, turning a dark shade of red wine, regarded him. Teeth gritted into a smile. Even though Murata had his arms around the spirit, he wondered what he'd do if Trouble got any angrier. Wolfram's whole body was shaking.

"Ah…_the question_…" Wolfram hideous smile changed, sharp little fangs grew longer. "Wolfram said that I couldn't tell anyone but you…but that you wouldn't bother to ask unless you were busy trying to play 'hero' again." The face had a cold anger which didn't make Yuuri back down at all. Instead, he could feel The Maou inside him, stirring.

"If I do my job right, you'll have everything you want, Yuuri Heika. You can have Kumiko every night if you like…in the maou's bed." The spirit taunted in Wolfram's voice. "And you'll have Wolfram, a loyal tin soldier, standing by your side when it's convenient for you. Then again, his love and loyalty were always conveniences, right Yuuri Heika?"

"The deal," he spat angrily.

Feet pounded. The dancing below got wilder. The party, roaring into life. Men were singing, half drunk.

"Answer!" Yuuri shouted.

"To kill all feelings for you…piece by piece…until there's nothing left."

It knocked the wind out of him. Yuuri's black eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"It was Wolfram's request!"

"No," the double black said, stunned. Then, his memory flashed back to Trouble in "shadow-man" form. Wolfram was in the spirit's arms, sobbing piteously. At the time, he thought it was because the blond couldn't get away.

A toothy smile grinned at Yuuri. "If I do my job right, when this is all over with…" the blond glared defiantly "Wolfram will be able to look deeply into your eyes…and feel…_nothing_."

"And you can do that…permanently? I won't allow it!" Yuuri roared back, he could feel his eyes wanting to turn into dark slits. His voice was deepening.

"I've been doing it for awhile now!" Trouble bellowed and immediately threw up a shield, palms flat pressing it in place. A blast of blue light hit the purple barrier and ricocheted into the wall, blasting a hole into it. Still in the hallway, Conrad and Yozak peeked hesitantly into the hole only to be met with the sight of a room, swirling with magic winds. Yuuri was kneeling down in Maou Mode, and a livid female flying fox spirit was perched on the bed with Murata who was covering his face with his bent arm.

"There is nothing 'just' in what you have done to Wolfram!" the Maou bellowed, black eyes dangerous.

"That should be my line!" the spirit spat back. Her body begged to lunge forward aggressively. Only the barrier was keeping her in place.

Black, shoulder length hair shifted restlessly against The Maou's shoulders. "He's my inamorato! You had _no right_!"

The flying fox woman dressed in Wolfram's clothing clinched her fists in frustration. "I had every right. And you should have treated him better than this!" she yelled through the barrier.

The air crackled with electricity and the blue bands of light searched the room. Tra'va pulled the shield into a circle making a barrier to protect herself and Murata.

"Yuuri has to make his own decisions…and live with them!" The Maou fumed.

Foxish features grew angry all over again. A lip curled. "He's half of you! Wolfram has shown me this. So, skip the 'holier than thou' crap." Hot, angry tears were coming. "If you loved Wolfram so much, which I don't believe—by the way—then, why did you let Yuuri destroy the only shot at happiness that you've got?"

The Maou glared and stood up rigidly. "In time, he would have seen Wolfram for what he was to us."

Her jaw fell. The Demon King got an incredulous stare. "Huh? 'For what he was?' Do you even listen to yourself? You said 'was.' It would be too late. No one chooses to be treated this way. Or, did you want him to be like the other maou's spouses? Wolfram knows the history of Shin Makoku. He knows how they were treated—cheated on, ignored, abandoned…lonely. Is that the future you had planned? Or did you allow this as a test of Wolfram's loyalty? How much would he be willing to take before he walked away?"

Eyes with black slits narrowed. Slowly, a fist pushed its way through Tra'va's purple barrier. "You're weakening, fox."

It was true. The spirit was using too much energy to defend herself against The Maou. But she had to get one more shot in. "Oh, why don't you spout off more 'As the 27th Maou of Shin Makoku' crap to me? Maybe, I'll be impressed this time…" Then, before she knew it, he'd broken through. Thick fingers found the fox woman's neck and he latched on.

Instantly, the shield disappeared and Tra'va's winged form was pulled forward off the bed, almost into The Maou. The fingers tightened. She had to stand on her toes to breathe.

"Damn," she gritted out.

_Tra'va?_

_Wolfram?_

_Let me handle this._

_He's so angry right now…you shouldn't…_

_It's Yuuri…I've faced him before…like this…in a duel._

_But…Wolfram!_

The words "_stay back_" echoed in Trouble's mind as she found her soul being pushed away into a far, dark corner in Wolfram's heart. She called to Wolfram, but knew that he wouldn't answer her.

Wolfram's bright blond features slowly emerged. The skin whitened and the body shifted to something slightly smaller than the fox form that it had just seconds ago. The face tilted up and green eyes stared into black ones.

"Yuuri?" Wolfram said quietly, he gasped for a breath, but it was almost impossible. Thin arms hung down loosely.

The Maou's face fell at that, as did Wolfram from his grip. But in the next moment, the blond felt strong arms around him, bringing him in.

Murata, seeing his chance, rolled off the bed and made a hasty exit to the bedroom door where Yozak and Conrad were standing.

With the blond ragdoll pressed against his side, The Maou grabbed one edge of the thin curtain, shoved it back, opened the window, and looked down to the city below. There was a rain barrel across the street. It was perfect. With one finger pointed at the barrel, a water dragon appeared. The skies darkened and a light rain fell with a sleepy 'patting' sound. The dragon grew in size and approached the window. It wrapped itself around the couple, and took Wolfram and the Demon King down to the street below.

Murata, Yozak, and Conrad walked briskly to the open window and looked out to see the figures move between two buildings and off to the small piney woods beyond.

"I think they want to be alone," Yozak said, making eye contact with Conrad while the skies outside began to clear.

"Yes, I know." He folded his arms and told himself not to worry. But he did anyway.

* * *

The Maou's strides went forward and with great purpose. Wolfram's body, being weak, had a hard time keeping up. He stumbled more than once and cursed quietly when he tripped over a clump of weeds. With a steely side glance, The Demon King simply stopped, picked up Wolfram bridal style, and kept going.

The blond leaned against his chest, hair splayed against the black material. The legs dangled over the king's right arm. Wolfram glanced up at the well set jaw and sharp features of the man carrying him. The king was smoldering inside. Wolfram knew it, but couldn't bring himself to care.

The Demon King didn't stop until he found a quiet spot away from everyone. The town they'd just walked away from was within viewing distance. It had that quaint, storybook look to it.

Gently, he put Wolfram beneath a pine tree and sat down next to him, feeling the cool breeze wash over them both.

"You're different now," The Maou said, eyeing Wolfram's body in a way that didn't make the blond feel very comfortable. But he reminded himself that this was Yuuri—an older, wiser part—a spirit that was strong like Tra'va—no, stronger. But, underneath it all, it was his former fiancé.

Weakly, Wolfram leaned against the tree and felt the bark bite into his tender back. "I suppose…I am," he answered honestly.

"I can see it," he said with a disapproving tone, placing a finger against Wolfram's chest and then moving it left and right. He traced the finger down the side of Wolfram's neck, which was beginning to show signs of bruising from when he'd grabbed Tra'va, and followed a path straight to the blond's heart. "Your soul feels different. It is different." The king's hand pressed against Wolfram's forehead and he frowned deeply.

Dull, green eyes the color of old glass blinked back at The Maou. With lethargic motions, he touched The Demon King's hand, wrapped his fingers around it, and peeled it away. "She didn't do anything that I didn't ask for." He thought back on the deal that they'd made. "I saw an opportunity and I took it." The blond gave the hand a soft squeeze before releasing it.

The Maou's black eyes radiated ire. "You should not have done that." A larger, much firmer hand, rested on the blond's shoulder.

Wolfram looked up and watched a low cloud melt away in the sky. "It's for the greater good. It's what you deserve and what I can live with." The disapproving fingers gripped into a narrow shoulder. The blond ignored it. "You should be happy, Yuuri. Once I leave Tra'va at the shrine, everything will start over. You'll have your life, and I'll have mine."

The hand grabbed Wolfram and tugged him closer. He was off balance and his body was leaning into The Maou.

"What do you feel for me now?" It was an honest question, but an awkward one coming from the person who ruled the kingdom. And, to make matters worse, the dull green eyes deeply worried the man. If this change was permanent, he wasn't sure who to blame.

"Truthfully…it's…." He regarded Yuuri for a second. Even in Maou mode, he was handsome and was once his thanks to a slap. The look was unmistakable—regret. "A soft ache…"

"I'm keeping you by my side," The Maou said. His voice was stern and his decision final.

Wolfram's lips turned up in a slight smile. "Of course, I would be more than pleased to stay by your side. I'm still a good swordsman—though, not as good as Conrad—and my fire wielding is better than most. I can protect you in your other form." Then, he tilted his chin up to see dark eyes that were still burning. "My mother, Gwendal, and I have been deciding what to do with me. When this is all over, I mean. Once our engagement is ended, I'll have a loss of status. It means nothing to you, but I'll feel the impact of it. That's why we're retraining my private guard to become a specialized light infantry."

A deep voice answered, "And why would you think I would allow you to do that? The light infantry goes in first with very little armor. On the battlefield, they engage and antagonize the enemy."

"I'll be Gwendal's eyes and ears on the battlefield."

"I won't allow it."

Wolfram almost smiled at that. "Mother didn't want to, either. But, then, she remembered that Yuuri Heika didn't want to have wars. So, in time, she agreed."

A warm hand stroked Wolfram's cheek. He stared back dully and slowly congratulated himself. The "old Wolfram" would have blushed and been secretly thrilled for any affection from Yuuri. _Any._ Instead, he allowed the touch but looked on with only slight curiosity.

"I never intended to hurt you." He traced the soft curve of Wolfram's cheek. The hand reached the shoulder and rested on the upper arm.

"It won't hurt for much longer. It's best to just let these things go. I want you to be happy, I mean."

Dark, passionate eyes bore into him. "I'm not letting you go. You don't seem to understand that." He traced the outline of Wolfram's pink lips with his finger. It left a shimmering feeling behind. "Why is it that I haven't ended the engagement? Do you know why?"

Wolfram didn't answer. The blond's body was leaning heavily against the strong, well built form of The Demon King with his head, now, on the black clad shoulder. An arm curled around Wolfram's waist.

Instead of being thrilled, Wolfram sighed to himself. "Our engagement…whether it is ended or not…is a wasted effort. It's pointless. When you turn back into the 'other Yuuri,' this will all be forgotten." Wolfram lifted his ashen face to make eye contact. "…As will your affection…" He could see the turmoil in black eyes. It wasn't a good thing. He should have kept that to himself. With a slight shrug, backing down, he continued, "It's all right, though. I'll stay with you for as long as you want me."

The Demon King shook his head. Wolfram's intensity, his drive, was gone. That part of him he loved so well—the passion, with all of its fire and brilliance, was put out.

Their moment together was going badly, he knew. And, in spite of everything, Wolfram decided to comply with his king's wishes. He would stay until he was no longer wanted—again. It was only a matter of time. But he could endure it because he was different now and because he was prepared.

The blond tugged at Yuuri's clothing to get his attention. "You can kiss me…if you like." There was no blush, no embarrassment…no smile. It was said quietly and with an even, almost businesslike, tone.

With confidence, The Maou tilted Wolfram's chin up with a finger. He leaned in, whispered "You belong to me," and pressed their lips together.

Wolfram closed his eyes and wondered what this feeling was. The dull ache was gone and replaced with something else. But it was only a flicker of feeling—of something.

In the next kiss, The Maou turned his head slightly and pressed harder. The hand stroked a soft, pale face again. But, this time, the touch grew smaller, and with a lighter stroke. The Demon King's shoulder length hair shortened and his features rounded, more boyish. The irises with slits disappeared.

Yuuri's eyes fluttered open and, to his surprise, he realized that he was kissing Wolfram under a tree. His face looked confused as he took everything in, but his mouth was still puckered. _I was inside the room, and now…_

The blond's chin turned away to break the kiss. "Welcome back," Wolfram said, looking at him with dull, green eyes. The ache returned.

"Ummm…thanks," Yuuri said awkwardly. Then, realizing that this was his chance, he took Wolfram's hands in his and shifted his own body so that he could look straight into green eyes. "It's good to see you again." His hands squeezed Wolfram's harder.

"Thank you," Wolfram said quietly. "Shall we go back now?"

"Ummm…well… Yeah." Yuuri's eyes trailed over the blond, taking everything in. "Wolfram, are you…okay…really?" The color of Wolfram's irises bothered him. They weren't his. They were like a stranger's.

The blond got to his feet and offered Yuuri his hand without complaint or criticism. "I'm fine…as usual," he said, helping his maou up. Without saying anything else, he began the lonely trek back to the town to find the others—only glancing occasionally to spy the double black's shadow to make sure Yuuri was following. Behind him, Yuuri's eyes were drawn to the back of Wolfram's shirt and the ripped holes where his leathery wings once were.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The steps were lethargic but steady. With each movement, the buildings got taller. No longer did they seem like dollhouses, but real dwellings: shops and homes around the village square. Wolfram remembered the path that they'd taken. It was a narrow trail made by white tail deer, perhaps. So, doubling back was easy enough for someone with his soldier's training. Yuuri, on the other hand, wasn't so skilled. He did his best to follow the blond and to do as he did. But the thick weeds pulled at his legs. And, more than once, he noticed that Wolfram's head turned slightly to see if he was okay. That made him smile. Wolfram still cared.

They walked on in silence, the two of them. Yuuri was searching himself, trying to find something to say. A part of him wanted to prattle on aimlessly until the blond snapped and volleyed insults. Another part wanted to say that he was sorry for hurting the person he considered to be his best friend and that he was sorry for the way his "friend" found out about his girlfriend on Earth.

Yuuri shoved his hands into his pockets, planning the perfect way to phrase it all, when his fingers brushed against the folded piece of paper. He knew what it was without even taking it out. It was a page of lined notebook paper with a message written in bright purple ink and little hearts that dotted the ends of the sentences. Kumiko had slipped the note into his shoe locker at school along with a fuzzy, bear keychain that matched the one she had on her cell phone.

His fingers wrapped around the note. Two worlds. Two lives.

The guilt was eating at him, now. Look what happened to Wolfram, who took their silly engagement much too seriously.

Wolfram was broken.

Yuuri took another deep breath and recited in his head what he wanted to say. In the next few steps, he'd begin somehow.

Wolfram, still feeling tired—both physically and emotionally—wanted the next few minutes to be quiet. If he could have that much, at least, then he could deal with the rest. And, if he couldn't, Tra'va would be more than willing to take over. But, the blond soldier didn't want to do that just yet. He wanted to prove to himself just how much he could take without running to her for help.

"Ummm…Wolfram?" the double black said from behind.

In an instant, stress began building within him. It gripped hard. Wolfram stopped and turned wearily in his direction. His blond hair was limp and the shirt that he was wearing flapped slightly in the breeze like a tattered flag of surrender.

Yuuri met glassy green eyes and almost forgot what he was going to say next. "I just…need to tell you…" _…To tell you that I really want to hold you right now...because this isn't right. It doesn't feel right at all._

"That you're sorry?" Wolfram finished for him because the pause was turning into a long silence.

"Well, yeah…and…" his voice trailed away.

"Accepted," the blond said in the same even tone he reserved for the foreign dignitaries who visited the castle. "It's in the past. It's best to leave things there." Wolfram turned back to the trail and began trudging again. But, this time, he pushed himself to walk a little faster even though he didn't feel like it.

"O-Okay," Yuuri said cautiously. "I just don't want anything to…"

The blond head turned back slightly, "…Change between us?"

"Yeah," the double black said with a nod. That was it.

There was a harsh sigh from up ahead and it made the double black cringe.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri Heika," the voice said back. "Change is all I have."

* * *

There was a firm knock at the bedroom door and Murata opened it with curiosity. Who could it be now? He'd just gone to see the owner about the hole in the wall and passed it off as an off shoot of the bachelor party that was still in full swing downstairs. The owner got his money as compensation, trudged up stairs, nailed a thin piece of wood over the hole, and went back to join the rowdy crowd.

The door swung open, almost of its own accord, with a surprised sage watching Wolfram and Yuuri stepping through.

"I'm back," Wolfram said flatly. His eyes scanned the room. With the spirit in charge, it felt like a thick daydream—the kind of stupor every one of Günter's students had going into hour three of his lectures. But, now, everything was crisper and clearer.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said with concern. He could see them. Wolfram's neck was beginning to show signs of bruising from when The Maou reached into the barrier and grabbed Tra'va by the throat.

Conrad moved to place a hand on Wolfram's shoulder. And, some part of him—a bratty part—wanted to shove the hand away. It wasn't anger. It was reflex.

_Wolfram?_

_Yes, Tra'va?_

_Let him touch your shoulder._

Narrowed green eyes turned down at the floor as he asked, "Why should I?"

Then, he felt the large, warm hand. It gave a reassuring squeeze.

Her voice whispered back, _"…Because he needs it…and you do, too."_

Conrad's brown eyes deepened. "Why should you _what_, Wolfram?" The hand was still there.

"Trouble was just saying something to me. It's nothing, really."

_So, my words are "nothing," huh, Wolfram?_ There was a feminine lilt.

Wolfram frowned slightly. _You confuse me. One minute, you're rude to them and the next minute, you're nice._

_Yes, I'm complicated. But, so are you. And I understand what you're feeling right now. But I also want you to know…I love you, Wolfram. Never forget that. I'll always place you first._

_Thank you, but…_ Slightly uncomfortable, he bit his lower lip. Being told that felt weird. For so long, he'd wanted to hear those words. But he wanted them to come from Yuuri. Now, he didn't want to hear them at all.

_Don't worry about that,_ she said with a smile in her voice. _Look at Yuuri. Letting Conrad touch you, console you, has made him happy._

Green eyes darted to Yuuri. He was, in fact, looking at Conrad with a smile on his face.

_I'm proud of you, Wolfram. You've pleased your king. That's a good thing, right? It's what you said you wanted to do…right? _Tra'va didn't sound convinced.

_Yes…I suppose…_

_Well, then, you'll have to do more of that in the future if you plan to be a good soldier and stand by your monarch's side._

"Wolfram?" Conrad said. He tilted his head in his brother's direction.

"Oh, sorry," the blond mumbled. Then, he eyed the people around him. Yozak stood there with his beefy arms folded across his chest. His face looked amused but his sky blue eyes spoke of concern. Wolfram had a sudden flashback of kissing him on the bed not too long ago. His stomach got an instant, greasy feeling. Wasn't this the same guy who had a thing for his older brother? And it took Tra'va very little effort to win him over. Wolfram tucked a strand of his blond hair behind his ear and tried to push away the millions of tiny details that the spirit had "accidentally" stumbled across when making out with him. He squirmed inwardly and could hear the distant echo of Trouble laughing at him. _It's too bad you feel that way, Wolfram_, she said. _From what I can see, he's great in bed._

Wolfram turned to Murata next. The sage's glasses flashed, making them more like little round shields—blocking any view of his black eyes. Wolfram's face hardened at him. The sense of betrayal and hate came back, fierce and fiery. This was the sage—the figure his people revered. Even though the blond knew that Murata's morality was questionable at best, he had wanted with every fiber of his being for the sage to support the engagement—to encourage Yuuri to do the right thing and be loyal. Since the day of the slap, Wolfram had been faithful only to Yuuri and had sworn off any kind of physical affection, from anyone, in the hopes that Yuuri would one day want him. It was a lonely life, to be sure. But he had convinced himself that the double black would be worth it.

Wolfram's thoughts drifted back to the spirit within him._ You called Murata your husband, Trava._

_Hmm? Yes…he is…_

The blond's right hand made a fist. _You have bad taste in husbands._

There was a sigh._ I know why you feel that way. You think that he betrayed you, right? Well, you could see into his heart when "we" kissed him. Murata was just acting like the juvenile that his body is…and the age…he pretends to be._

Without a word, Wolfram turned away from Murata, walked to the edge of the middle bed and sat down on it. _So, you're making excuses for him?_

_Maybe,_ she said in a softer tone_, …maybe_…_we expected too much of him. Maybe, we should consider that… and kick his ass._

_Really? _He brightened.

_No, actually… 'forgiveness' would be a better choice here._

Feeling slightly foolish, Wolfram's teeth clinched. _You're only saying that because you want him._

_Possibly… But, there's also the possibility I'm suggesting this because I'm not going to finish the job I started. This isn't a game. Chipping away at your feelings for Yuuri is simply too painful…for either of us…and I won't alter your soul more than I already have._

He stopped himself from growling, but he was pissed. _I knew you were going to say that._

_And I knew that you were going to be mad at me._ It was followed by the ghost of arms holding him closely. Had they been solid, he would have shoved them away. Instead, he had to tolerate it all. _I know that the opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference. And Yuuri has certainly shown you that… However… Don't ask me to hurt you anymore. I just can't. I'm sorry, Wolfram. And as much as I don't want to admit it, The Maou was right about this one. Doing this to you…chipping away at your soul…was wrong._

The sensation of long, red fox hair tickled his face.

_In life…in death… I was never a good person. I have no illusions about myself. I'm loud, difficult, happy, rude…a free spirit in most ways. And, in time, I hope, you'll come to forgive me, too, for what I've done and what I have failed to do. _

_Because you "love me"? _He was growing to hate that "L" word.

_Yes, just like The Maou._

"Wolfram?" Murata repeated himself, kneeling down to examine the blond's face more closely. "He's not responsive again. I'm not sure what…" He patted his hand against a pale cheek. Within seconds, his wrist was snatched painfully and twisted back.

"Don't touch me," Wolfram threatened. His whisper was icy.

Murata's eyes flew open at that. He went from "fine" to "pain" in mere seconds. And the blond was still twisting his wrist back. Wolfram's face had a cruel edge to it, not unlike Shinou when he faced the enemy on the battlefield all those eons ago. But never, in all of his travels with the Original King, was the look of pure hatred ever directed at him. Murata's blood ran cold.

"I think that's enough!" Conrad said, admonishing him.

Mechanically Wolfram lifted away his thumb and index finger. Then, he retracted the arm.

"It's…fine…" Murata said mostly to himself, nursing his smarting wrist. No one believed what he was saying and, either way, Wolfram didn't care.

The blond turned to Yozak. "When do you want to go looking for those two men who followed us earlier on?' Wolfram, his temper returning to him, had a sudden itch to leave the room.

The orange haired man blinked at that. "Oh…ummm…well…" His eyes drifted to Conrad.

"Oh," Wolfram grumbled, "I guess I should have directed that question to Conrad." He looked up at him expectantly.

"I'm not sure we should now," he said, studying Wolfram a bit more. His little brother wasn't acting anything close to normal. And it might be better to just locate the shrine after all and be done with Trouble forever.

"We really need to investigate this," Wolfram said in an authoritative tone. "We've met four guys with those red stones. So that means there could be more. They want Morgif…but why? And we can deal with these guys now, or we can wait until their ranks grow and we'll have just that much more to handle in the weeks ahead."

"I don't think Wolfram's well enough," Yuuri said with certainty, echoing Conrad's feelings. "It would probably work out better to just sleep here tonight and leave early in the morning."

He rolled his eyes at that. "Yuuri Heika," the blond grumbled, "you are my _ex-fiancé_, not my father. My health is my own affair."

"Ex-fiancé?" Yuuri said to himself.

Shock. That's what the looks told him. It hung in the air heavily. Wolfram folded his arms and cocked his head to one side in confusion. It seemed so strange until a thought occurred. He turned to the double black. "Do you even read half of the papers you sign?"

"You slipped that past me?" he breathed.

"You and I have joint custody of Greta, too."

Yuuri had to sit down. He took a seat on Conrad's bed, leaned over, and put his head in his hands.

"To be honest, I really thought you'd approved, wholeheartedly, considering the way things were between us."

He lifted his head up. "You ran out of the room, Wolfram," Yuuri said with an accusing finger pointed at him. "You didn't even say why. There was no dealing with you."

"Your signature was on the paper and Gwendal showed it to me the morning of training with my troops. Not long after that, we met up with Tra'va at the old well."

"Wolfram…" He groaned. He just couldn't believe it.

"Mother's been using my bedroom in the castle to store some of her things. I mean, the bed is still there and all, but moving around is hard. So, in the short-term, I'll be staying in Gwendal's suite. Later, I'll have a place of my own."

Yuuri shot an exasperated look. "You don't listen very well, do you? That's not it. That's not it _at all_!"

"Yuuri Heika, you should be relieved…" Wolfram forced a thin smile on his face even though the ache in his heart worsened.

"Don't tell me what to feel," Yuuri shot back, "and STOP CALLING ME _HEIKA_!"

Eyes like green bottles simply blinked at him. He didn't react because there was no need to. "Don't worry about me anymore. I'm fine, really," the blond said and rubbed the faint bruises on his neck. "I'm well enough to simply walk around the town with Yozak. And Tra'va can direct me if any of those men come back. There's very little risk." He stood up and gave the spy a look that said "time to go."

Conrad gave Yozak a reluctant nod and the pair made their way to the door. While leaving, the spy motioned to the hole in the wall and chuckled, "That was impressive, you know." Wolfram nodded in agreement. "Those two really don't like each other, do they?"

* * *

Ten minutes had passed and Yuuri was still sitting on the bed with his head back in his hands. He'd slowed his breathing down to normal, but his mind was racing. He was having difficulty grasping what just went on. With a single stroke of the quill, he'd signed away Wolfram and handed over half of his custody of Greta. It was like a bad dream come to life.

Murata rubbed his sore wrist again to get some circulation back into it. "Well, it's finally over, Shibuya."

Yuuri raised his head at that. He could feel the spirit of the maou stirring within him. He was pissed. There was no other explanation that he could give for the turmoil.

"I had no idea I'd signed that." He shook his head, feeling miserable.

"And, considering your habit of slacking off on paperwork, that signature came at a surprisingly fast clip." The sage suspected an enthusiastic Gwendal of putting it near the top of the stack. "But, if you were seeing someone back on Earth…and Wolfram knew that… It's no wonder Wolfram believed that you knew what you signed." Murata tilted his head to catch Yuuri's reaction.

Then, the double black looked up at his godfather, almost afraid to ask his question. "Did you know, Conrad?"

He shuffled his feet a little. "Some guards saw Gwendal and Wolfram heading to the baths. And it looked like Wolfram had…been…crying." He shrugged awkwardly. "I was going to check up on Wolfram after he trained his troops, but…well…you know the rest."

"I understand," Yuuri said and rested his head back in his hands. "I really made a mess of things, didn't I?"

Murata fought back a smile. "It's not too late, Shibuya," he said in a tone of reassurance. "There may yet be a chance that you can make things different…better."

"Not if I don't know what I want."

Murata pushed the glasses up on his nose a little. "I think you've had more than enough time to know what you want…and what you don't want." He leaned in a little. "Someone, a long time ago, once told me that sometimes knowing what you _don't want_ to happen is far more important than knowing what you _do want_." Murata sat next to Yuuri and gave him a friendly nudge on the shoulder. "Maybe I should have said this to you awhile back… I was just having too much fun. Sometimes, being with you…it gives me the chance to enjoy this youth that I've been given again. Sometimes, I can forget that I've lived for so long."

Onyx eyes turned to him sincerely. "What should you have said?"

"As the wise one of the bunch, I should have encouraged you to be more of a king and less of a teenager. I should have shown you the perspectives of the people around you. And I could have warned you that von Bielefeld would be like this. His ancestor, Rufus, had a similar talent for making snap, self-destructive, decisions. Nonetheless, if you knew that you had no attraction to him whatsoever, you should have dissolved the engagement before he became attached to you."

Yuuri combed his hair back with his fingers. "What do I do now?"

"That's up to you, Yuuri," Conrad said.

"Deep down," Murata added, "I think you know the answer. You've always known."

The double black sighed. "What? That I should just give in and accept Wolfram's feelings for me?"

Murata shook his head "no." "If that's truly how you see yourself with him, then you need to leave things as they are."

"No!" Yuuri practically shouted. "How can I do that? You see what he's like now." Yuuri pointed at the closed door. "I've got to find a way to do the right thing."

Slowly, Murata closed his eyes in frustration. Yuuri could be so dense sometimes. "I believe Lord von Bielefeld feels that what he's done so far is, as you put it, 'the right thing'."

The Maou pushed angrily inside Yuuri's chest. He could feel the rage and, this time, he agreed. "I can't leave it at that."

"So, what are you going to do?" Conrad asked, curious.

"I'm going to go find Wolfram," he said, standing up. "And I'm not going to stop until we've worked something out."

"Then, let's go," Conrad said with a slight smile.

"I'm coming along, too," Murata said. "I'd just be bored sitting here all by myself."

* * *

The quiet was starting to annoy him. It just felt awkward now that they'd been together and nothing was being said.

"So, how is Trouble doing?" Yozak asked casually, walking at Wolfram's elbow. He was a little nervous when he asked the question. There was a bit of stress in his voice. Wolfram caught it but pretended not to.

"She was talking my ear off a few minutes ago," he complained. "But, now, she's starting to doze. That fight with Yuuri in his 'maou' form really drained her." He continued to walk on but his eyes were on the sky.

"Does that mean that you slept…a lot…when you were not in control?" he asked hopefully. The spy was getting flashbacks of making out with Wolfram and the delicious things that Tra'va could do to him with only a touch. She also liked being on top when she kissed him with full, passionate lips. It was probably her dominant nature, he reasoned. But, it could also have had something to do with not wanting to get her wings crushed.

Wolfram's eyes cut sideways with a smirk. _So, you feel the same way about me that I do about you, huh?_ It cheered him up. And, somewhere inside him, the spirit chuckled sleepily.

"You know, Yozak," Wolfram said, trying to keep his voice even, "about Conrad…" He could feel Tra'va starting to stir at the words and she was feeling edgy. What was Wolfram going to say? The blond smirked at that, too, as well as the strange look on Yozak's face. "Well, it's none of my business…and it has nothing to do with me….but…"

Yozak's stare intensified. He stopped walking and Wolfram, as a result, had to stop as well.

"I'm not the best brother in the world, but… I want Conrad to have someone, in his life, someday…" Dull, glassy green eyes stared back into sky blue ones. "I don't want him to be like me…or Yuuri. No one deserves that."

The spy ruffled his own orange hair awkwardly to relieve the tension. "I don't quite get you," he laughed uncomfortably.

"I don't think people were meant to live alone. They should find that special person to share their lives with."

Yozak cleared his throat a little. "About the kiddo…" His mind flashed to Yuuri and all they'd been through. "Things seem complicated right now, but…"

Wolfram smiled up at Yozak. It was serene, peaceful, and kind. It struck him that he'd never seen Wolfram looking that way before—ever. "I hope Yuuri finds someone who will make him happy. And, maybe, Conrad will, too."

Yozak tugged at his collar a little nervously. "Did…um…Trouble tell you that Conrad or Yuuri…uh…that they seem to like each other…or something?" His face got a little twitchy. "Maybe, I shouldn't have asked, though…"

Wolfram grinned on the inside. This was fun, and he had learned a few things from Trouble. But, he also knew when to quit. "No…she didn't. Conrad just sees himself as Yuuri's godfather. And that's all they'll ever be to each other. That's what Tra'va showed me."

Yozak let out a breath quietly. Then, his eyes got a hint of mischief. "Wait… So, that means no more running around the castle accusing Yuuri of flirting with Conrad?" This scenario was dangling a bit of "jealousy" bait and he knew it. But would Wolfram bite?

Putting his hands behind his back in a casual way, Wolfram began walking alone. His ragged shirt blew in the wind again, and his shadow was his only companion. "I know what Yuuri, as the Demon King, wants… but it's not realistic. Once Yuuri accepts that he's signed the paper, which shouldn't take long…I think…He'll find someone else… No, what am I saying…?"

Yozak quirked a grin.

"Yuuri's already found someone else…on Earth…" Wolfram took a slow step, and Yozak's smile faded.

"And I can quietly…" He took another step. "Walk…away…" He turned back to the orange haired spy with a thin smile and the wind whipped at his hair, blowing it back.

"Stop it," Yozak said in a pained voice.

"What?" The blond tilted his head, confused.

"Stop smiling…when you're absolutely miserable."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Morgif moaned in pleasure to let the little group know that he was absolutely thrilled to be out from under the bed and away from the dust bunnies from Hell. The double black tried to shush him when he gave a particularly long, happy moan—attracting the attention of an elderly lady who immediately gave them the hairy eyeball. Yuuri laughed nervously at being ogled suspiciously like that.

Yuuri, Conrad, and Murata turned the corner. The street was on their left and the shops on the right. They'd been walking around the city in the hopes of catching sight of blond or orange hair among the crowds.

A man in an old dung cart rambled by. Yuuri held his nose.

"I don't see them," Murata said, turning his head to watch a set of adorable twins, looking about his own age, with light purple hair, honey-colored eyes, and matching pink dresses with a scooped neck design cut oh-so-low. Standing in front of the city's elaborately painted sign which said "Welcome to Little Kaimen," they winked at him, in unison, and he briefly thought of following them in the opposite direction. Maybe, he could carry their packages. The twin on the right had some really _great packages_, the sage decided. The left twin wasn't so bad, either.

Yuuri, oblivious, nodded in agreement with the sage's last statement. "Still, this city isn't that big. I had hoped that we could catch up to them quickly." He dodged some school children making a mad dash for the cake shop.

"They had a head start on us, Shibuya," Murata returned, struggling to get his mind back on track. He liked the way Yuuri was actively looking for Wolfram with some determination in his eyes. Not being able to resist the urge, the sage turned to glance behind him. The twins had stopped again, too, and giggled behind their hands as they watched him. Something about their smiles said "follow us." _Ah, male fantasy_, he thought wryly, _but I'd better get back to business._

"Still nothing," the sage heard Yuuri grumble under his breath. "Me, too," he chimed in and it wasn't a lie. A small part of Murata wanted to catch up with the blond, too. He intended to offer an apology for his role in the little Yuuri-Kumiko fiasco—if Wolfram didn't try to kill him first.

"_Wait_… There they are," Conrad said, motioning to the pair standing near the street corner.

This corner was the last street corner in the city. All of the buildings and dwellings were abruptly cut off from that point. There was the road before them, of course, and, beyond that, a somewhat drab, unimpressive intersecting dirt road that led away into the rolling hills.

Yozak and Wolfram were far enough away to where their voices couldn't be heard over the rumbling street traffic and the chatter from the ebb and flow of the citizens around them. But, even at this distance, it was clear that the two of them were having a serious discussion. Yozak's face was sincere and he made a hesitant gesture to touch Wolfram's forearm, seemingly, to comfort him. Once Yozak did touch Wolfram's arm, Yuuri half expected the blond to shove the spy away in a fit of bratty temper. But, to the double black's surprise, washed out green eyes simply looked down at his own arm as though the hand had suddenly materialized there and he'd never expected such a thing to exist. Yozak seemed to tighten his grip. He bowed at the waist to examine the pale face before him a little better.

Yuuri frowned at that. And, not surprisingly to Murata, Conrad did exactly the same. The sage's eyes cut sideways to watch his companions. Yuuri's reaction was clear. He was feeling a mixture of guilt and jealousy—though he'd probably not admit to feeling either emotion right now. Conrad, on the other hand had his long time companion and his baby brother, a newly _non-engaged_ baby brother who just happened to be possessed by the entity of a free spirited _girl_…who adored _men_… Well, that put a different spin on things. Murata rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. If Yozak got a little lip lock action with Trouble right now, that would be interesting…very interesting. Though, deep down, he'd like to get Tra'va alone again so that he could spend an enjoyable time with his wife for another hour or two. _It would be nice to arrange,_ he thought while scratching the side of his nose, _but, it probably won't happen …still, one could always hope._

"You don't have to pretend with me," Yozak said. He leaned in to see Wolfram's wan face and caught the expression.

Wolfram nodded, closed his eyes when he did, and a thin tear slipped out of each eye. "Damn," he grumbled. He hated to appear weak—especially in front of Yozak, his brother's confidant. Wolfram rubbed them away with the back of his hand.

"It's okay," Yozak said, trying his best to use a soothing voice. But, he had to admit, on some level it felt odd having Wolfram open up to him. "I think you just need some time."

Wolfram hummed an agreement. "In time…I want to be like Gwendal," he said quietly, forcing his voice to be even. "In time, I want to be just like my brother…strong, logical, reasonable…"

"Alone," Yozak added in a disapproving tone.

"Just like that, yes," Wolfram whispered to himself. "Like him…I think I'll wait patiently for the years to slowly pass…calmly, quietly…uneventfully…if I'm lucky." The wind combed his hair.

Yozak frowned at him. "That's not living. That's existing."

"Same thing," Wolfram said with a shrug.

"No…it isn't." He squeezed Wolfram's forearm a little tighter. "Besides, didn't you tell me that people should look for that special person to spend their lives with?" He had him there. He fought the upwards curve that his lips wanted to make. But Wolfram saw the amused look in his eyes and returned a tired smile—the smile of a sleepy cat. "I tried. I failed." Then, he looked up at the orange haired man with a meaning behind his words. "But, in the end, I know that, at least, I made the effort. I won't spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been because I didn't try." _Unlike you…_

"Look, your engagement was…" Yozak didn't want to finish it. It would be a cruel thing to say right now. It would defeat the purpose of trying to cheer Wolfram up.

"A misunderstanding…that went too far?" The smile widened a little. "No, that's not entirely true. I went too far…and hoped for too much."

Sky blue eyes grew misty.

"Stop looking so sad. It was worth a try. He was worth it."

Yuuri watched as Yozak rubbed Wolfram's arm again without protest from the shorter blond young man. Then, to his surprise, Yozak scooped up Wolfram in his arms and hugged him. Wolfram simply stood there like a ragdoll—turning his face up in mild curiosity. His arms swung loosely at his sides.

"He'll let anyone hold him now," Yuuri complained under his breath as he walked forward with purpose. The double black was definitely going to catch up with Wolfram in the next minute.

Conrad was snapped out of his thoughts as Yuuri stepped in front of him. He followed with his hand brushing against his sword as he passed two tough looking men on the street who just stumbled out of a tavern. Murata stepped lively to keep up with Conrad.

With a quiet "thanks" from Wolfram, the embrace ended and the pair took a right at the corner and proceeded to walk again, side by side, when Wolfram came to a sudden halt. His body wouldn't move any longer because the spirit inside tugged at him. Understanding it, Wolfram gripped his chest with a blank look.

"I feel it! Two black auras with a kind of bubbly, red edge. That way." He pointed straight ahead. "Let's go."

"You can feel auras now?" Yozak said, a little confused.

"Tra'va lets me."

An orange eyebrow went up at that.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri called from afar. He tried to look cheerful. He waved.

Wolfram and Yozak turned around to see Yuuri, Conrad, and Murata jogging to catch up with them. It seemed strange to see them.

"I thought you were going to wait for us," Wolfram said to Yuuri as he approached.

"We changed our minds," the double black said swiftly, slowing down his jog to a brisk walk.

_You're pretty good at that, aren't you, Yuuri?_ Wolfram thought tartly with his hand on his hip.

"The more the merrier, right?" Murata practically chirped—which told Wolfram that something was, indeed, up. He tilted his chin all the way and narrowed his faded green eyes at his brother, who seemed happy to see the expression. "Do you have anything to say?" the blond muttered to Conrad, who just stood there smiling.

"No."

"Humph. Thought so."

"Tra'va just caught the auras of two people. We think it's them," Yozak said, hoping to switch topics before things got awkward.

"I know it's them," Wolfram added with a snort and arms folded across his chest. Yuuri smiled at that. It was another piece of the typical "Wolfram" puzzle that he was used to. His world was starting to feel normal again.

"This way," Wolfram told the group. As he walked, he grumbled, "Though, I wish that I had my sword with me. You guys are armed and I'm not."

"Sorry, Wolfram," Conrad apologized as they went, "but we couldn't let Trouble have your sword. It's still back at the castle."

"I know," he said with a brief pause in his stride. He reached down into his boot and pulled out the dagger. "This and my fire wielding," he sighed while flipping the blade expertly in one hand, "are all that I've got to protect us with. Pathetic."

Yuuri smiled. His dark eyes widened. "Don't worry, Wolram," he said, "Let us protect you for a change." He patted Morgif who gave a half moan and incoherent mumblings regarding his prowess.

Milky-green eyes turned to him, making Yuuri squirm inside.

"You're the maou. Don't you get it?" Wolfram said the lines in the same tired way that American children recited The Pledge of Allegiance each morning.

"But that doesn't mean anything!" Yuuri protested in a medium tone, trying not to draw more attention or to get Morgif started up moaning all over again.

Wolfram tossed his head at that. Then, he started walking. Yuuri followed the blond with a frown.

"It means something to us and to your country. Or, don't our feelings matter to you?" Wolfram's voice was even, almost bored.

It was an obvious jab at Yuuri. Everyone felt it. And, typically, Yuuri ignored it. "But, if we work together…" Yuuri said in a hopeful tone.

The blond continued on his way, unaffected.

Yuuri felt his frustration building. "Aww…come on… Be a team player, Wolfram."

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "Yuuri Heika…" he began and Yuuri squirmed a bit at the formality to which he quickly recovered and grumbled, "It's just 'Yuuri' to you."

Wolfram shrugged in a defeated way. "This is impossible. I swear, you'll be the death of me one day."

For the fraction of a second, Wolfram's eyes met with Murata's. Then, the blond turned away.

A glimpse. That's all it was, but Murata cringed inwardly. _That face…_ It was the same hopeless look that Shinou had when he told him to take his soul all of those eons ago. Murata trudged with the pack, almost wooden in his steps now, unable to let go of the image of The Original King holding Rufus in his arms, dressed as a girl this time. But, as the royal tactician and strategist, he could only stand by and let the king have his dalliances. Privately, their relationship had always been complicated and passionate. He told himself that it was better that way. Murata Ken scratched his head as he walked. And he pondered, for the first time, if he'd gone along with Yuuri and Kumiko's relationship because he remembered Shinou's "not so secret" affair with cross-dresser and spy extraordinaire Lady Rufus. Murata knew that Wolfram was a direct descendent_. Was some part of me trying to punish Shinou—or, rather, Wolfram—by encouraging Yuuri to be with Kumiko. _He walked on, not taking in anything_. I hope…not… Yuuri isn't me and Wolfram isn't Shinou. But, black and blond…powerful and empowered…history can repeat itself…and it ultimately ends in death. Or, at least…it did the last time._

"Do we keep walking this way?" Yozak asked, hoping to lead everyone forward before the suspects got away.

"Turn here," Wolfram said.

"But, this is just going to lead us to…" the double black's voice trailed away. They were behind the buildings now on the far side of town.

"Yes, the trail that we took together," Wolfram grumbled in Yuuri's direction, recognizing it. The path snaked away from the city and through a grove of pine trees. "On the surface, it looks like it was made by animals. But, now that I'm really looking at it…"

"Someone made this," Yozak said, scratching his chin in thought, "recently."

"I agree," Conrad said, studying it, too.

Wolfram motioned to the little grouping of trees ahead of them. "That's where Yuuri and I had our…" He turned to the double black just in time to see his face flush. "Discussion," the blond continued in an even tone. He closed his eyes slowly, opened them, and released a breath. He had no intention of throwing a tantrum over something that should be so trivial, so impossible. He said, "We can leave you three there until we finish scouting around. Come on, Yozak."

The pair walked towards the trees with Yuuri, Conrad, and Murata following. But, Yuuri decided he'd have none of it. "The three of us are going to stick with you guys," he said with arms folded. "This is going to be a group effort."

They followed the narrow trail, avoiding clumps of weeds and some dirt clods. "Better safe than sorry, though," Yozak said, turning his head back in Conrad's direction. He got a slight nod for that and it annoyed Yuuri. The two older men had been together for so long, and knew each other so well, that they didn't need words to communicate. Many of their "conversations" took place with simple looks and gestures. Some part of the double black wished that he had that type of relationship with someone.

"We're all in this together," the double black pressed. He avoided another particularly "grabby" clump of weeds.

_I just wanna kick his ass so badly, Wolfram,_ Tra'va griped to the blond. He could feel her inside—awake and irritated, as usual. The image that he had of the fox girl was of her naked, sitting cross-legged, and long red hair wrapped around her body like a towel. The wings flapped hard a few times with annoyance. _No matter what you want for him, he always picks something different. He doesn't even realize that your protection comes at a cost. And it's much easier to say "Yes, Heika," than to reign in your heart and say "No, Heika."_

_I know that I still have a heart, Tra'va, _Wolfram thought back. Then a small smile came to him. _But I also know that you're taking my side only because… you love me._

_I'll always love you, Wolfram,_ she smiled back. _But that doesn't mean that I'll always agree with you._

_You're a tough fox to figure out._

_Ain't I though?_

Wolfram's sudden, faint smile didn't go unnoticed by Yozak. And it worried him. He locked eyes with Conrad, briefly, and seemed to communicate his concerns again. The look was echoed. Thanks to Murata filling them in on the whole story, and the price that Wolfram wanted for borrowing his body, even Conrad was now deeply concerned about the state of his brother—both physically and emotionally.

Wolfram paused at the clump of pine trees. He leaned his head to one side curiously. He wondered if Yuuri would do as he suggested. It would be for the best, Wolfram reasoned, it they followed his plan.

"I'm not going along with this," Yuuri said, determined to get his way. "I'm not just staying here, cooling my heels."

Yozak turned to Conrad. "It might be better to have the two of us scout around and come back for them." He motioned a thumb at the trio. Conrad was about to agree when Wolfram crossed his arms and sat down under the tree with a snotty look on his face. Conrad fought back a grin, seeing that.

"Fine," Wolfram said in a haughty voice. "Just wander around all over the place, waste daylight, and come back for us when you can spare the time." He leaned his head backwards and closed his eyes. Though, some part of him hoped there weren't any bugs crawling on the tree's bark. The thought alone made the nape of his neck itch.

"Von Bielefeld's reasoning is pretty sound, Shibuya," Murata pointed out. "It would be faster and more efficient if he showed us the way."

"Just argue amongst yourselves," Wolfram said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He forced his body to relax. He decided that he didn't care either way. No one was in charge. They were all seven shades of stupid. He sighed impatiently to himself, safe in the knowledge that they were all fools. And he was in their party. So, what did that make him?

"Heika?" Conrad began.

"It's Yuuri, remember?"

_Assholes!_ Tra'va shrieked.

Wolfram wanted to snicker but bit his lip instead.

In the background, Yuuri and Conrad continued to talk in low tones.

"It's agreed, then. You'll join in the search," Yuuri grumbled as he finished his negotiations with his godfather and offered Wolfram a hand in getting up. "But we'll all go."

Wolfram blinked at the hand…and ignored it. He got himself up on his own and walked back to the trail.

Yuuri felt like a fool with his hand extended out like that. He could feel his face flush and his blood pressure rise. Murata whispered in his ear, "You're not the only one he's still mad at."

Wolfram stomped forward giving Conrad and Yozak a "Are you gonna just stand there or are you gonna follow me?" glare. Within a few steps, he decided that they made the group decision to follow. Lucky him. He rolled his eyes again.

Wolfram continued along the trail. Then, he stopped. "Where'd they go?" he asked Trouble out loud. His eyes searched the wide, grassy field ahead of him. The trail snaked off to another patch of trees at the base of a large hill. "Okay…we go forward." Wolfram picked up the pace, walking at a fast clip and the others found themselves jogging behind.

The blond entered a patch of trees and the shade from the branches allowed spotty light to spill down on him. His eyes searched for the black auras. "They're definitely hiding something, but they're relaxed…like they belong here…or they've been here for awhile…" He sped up again. …And power…coming and going…" Without turning behind him, Wolfram said in the shadow of Tra'va's voice, "Can't you feel it, my husband? The power…? "

Suddenly hearing Trouble's voice shocked Murata, but he quickly recovered. He turned his head, left to right and scanned.

Wolfram's body walked forward, but with a feminine gait.

"Wait," Conrad commanded, coming up close with his hand on his sword.

When Wolfram actually did it, he blinked hard. _Trouble actually obeyed me? At least, for a time, I think it was trouble._

"Wolfram," he said, bowing slightly to see his face better. Wolfram's look was blank. He was seeing everything and nothing.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri said, now approaching Wolfram from behind. "Are you okay?"

"They've gone in there," the blond said, pointing into the side of the hill.

"Into solid rock?" Murata said. He shook his head "no" at the prospect. "I don't think, from what you've told me, that they're earth spirits or something. So, there must be a cave entrance around here."

Still wearing a blank expression, Wolfram turned toward the hill and extended his arm out, palm down. "Don't use too much of your magic, Tra'va. Take my magic, if you can. In fact, I would prefer it." There was a brief pause that worried the group. "Don't argue," he grumbled to himself, "…just do it. I'm offering." There was a purple and black "splash" of magic around them—like a stone making ripples in water. It touched everything and moved on with the ethereal chime of a summer windbell.

Murata, feeling sensitive to the waves, held onto Yuuri's shoulder to steady himself as he felt the magic speed through them. Their black hair blew wildly.

Wolfram opened his eyes with a jerk and clutched his head as though he'd been hit with a baseball. "Damn, that hurts!"

"You okay, Wolfram?" Conrad said, coming closer and placing a hand on Wolfram's arm to steady him.

Wolfram, blinking back tears, allowed the touch—which both relieved and worried the double black. "I know how to get in now," he breathed from the splitting headache that he hoped would go away soon. He just couldn't waste any of his own healing magic to make it go away, and he was too proud to ask Yuuri for help. No, it was more than that. He still wanted to be left alone.

Ignoring everyone because his pounding head was screaming at him, Wolfram lumbered along the trail as it curved around a rather large, irregularly shaped tree and moved off at an angle. He could see the mouth of a cave and stopped abruptly before they got any closer.

"That's it," he muttered in a pained voice. "That's where they went." He put a hand to his still aching head. It felt like it was going to pound its way open.

The others caught up.

The sage's dark eyes were drawn to it. "That's not natural," Murata said, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a finger. "Look at how smooth the sides are. Even from here, it seems to be carved out from some basic design". Intrigued, he took a few steps closer without really meaning to. "No, not 'carved' so much as 'melted'."

"So, they made a hideout, huh?" Yuuri said.

"Do you think it's a cult of some sort? Or a group of assassins?" Yozak wondered, scratching his head.

Wolfram pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache. "Tra'va's reminding me that they're human. They seem threatened by magical beings…or anyone not like themselves… So, they could be a supremacist group."

The sage thought about it. _Supremacists hiding out near a town of Makoku?_ He dug into his pockets while the others watched. "Or just a band of greedy, self-improtant thugs with these," Murata said, pulling the four red stones that they'd taken from the humans. "I remembered to bring these along."

"Well, now that we know where they are, let me do some surveillance. Let's just say it's one of my specialties," the orange haired spy said with a bit of pride.

Wolfram's head suddenly whipped in the direction they'd just come. "More of them," he said in a harsh whisper.

"What?" Yuuri said, onyx eyes wide. "How many?"

"Four," he practically hissed. This was a major inconvenience and would be problematic at best if caught. Wolram was feeling like warmed over crap. "They're armed with those stupid red rocks, too. I can feel the pulses."

"These things have a pulse?" Yuuri said while he leaned over Murata's shoulder and gave the stones an owlish look. He cocked his head to one side cutely. And Wolfram did his best to push that picture from his mind. "It's hard to describe," he growled impatiently. "It's kind of an 'energy' pulse."

Murata gave a serious nod to Wolfram. "I know what you mean. I can feel it, too."

There was rustling along the trail and some soft mumbling.

"Right now, it doesn't matter what it's like!" Yozak broke in. "Just everyone hide! Scatter!"

Wolfram, who was standing close to Yozak, found his hand being jerked and then his whole lithe form followed Yozak's lead. Conrad immediately guided Yuuri and Murata in a different direction—toward a clump of medium sized shrubs. The double black turned his head just in time to see a slightly disoriented Wolfram being pulled down behind a rather large tree. Then, Yozak hid behind another one next to it.

A blond head peeked out and then moved back. "More of those sickly green robes," he grumbled under his breath, now squinting through the last of his headache. Yozak turned to him, wide eyed, and placed a finger against his lips. He got a "Yeah, Yeah, I know" glare from Wolfram.

Four robed figures walked up the path. The spoke to each other quietly, the murmurs making a faint, rumbling sound. They were also armed with the red stones—one in each hand.

Conrad saw them, too. "Were they looking for us?" he thought out loud.

"Probably," Murata said as he finished pocketing the red stones that he had with him.

"Why?" Yuuri whispered.

"That remains to be seen," Murata answered.

They all ducked down again as the fourth hooded figure, a particularly dumpy and apple shaped figure, hung back a little. The hooded face seemed to search the scenery around him—looking for something. Then he shrugged and hesitantly followed his brethren with an ambling gait.

* * *

It was dark now. They'd been waiting for hours and Wolfram's feet were aching from standing in one place for so long. Tra'va offered to switch places with him, but he flatly refused. He was a soldier and he could take this little bit of discomfort.

A few feet to the left of Wolfram came the quiet words, "Conrad, I'm bored." Yuuri whined it under his breath—feeling like the wimp that his ex-fiancé always claimed that he was. For the fraction of a second, his onyx eyes searched the darkness for a flash of blond hair. He really wanted to know that Wolfram was okay even though he knew that Yozak was with him.

"Sorry about that, Heika. We could send you back, you know."

"That's Yuuri. Yu-uri… After all, you named me."

"Of course, Yuuri," Conrad whispered back.

Murata shrugged at it all. He'd heard these lines before, as had everyone else in the castle. Murata looked up at the starry sky and told himself that observing these hooded people may not be as useful as he thought. After all, not much information could be gathered from keeping watch on the outside of a cave with hooded figures traipsing hack and forth. _Then again, it could be the boredom sinking in, _he thought. Then something else started sinking in. "Sorry, but I've really gotta go. Be right back."

Conrad narrowed his eyebrows at that. He didn't like having the sage leave his side—even for a minute. It could be problematic if the sage got lost or, worse, bitten by a snake.

Reading his face, Murata said, "Either I leave now, or we're going to have a nice little puddle right here." _Maybe, I've been hanging around Tra'va too much_. _Hee hee._ "Seriously, I'll be fine. I'll just go a little ways off." And, with a quiet swish of some branches, he melted into the background.

* * *

Wolfram crossed his arms in frustration and Yozak gave him a quirked grin. "Get used to this. Most of my observations require time and patience."

"Of which I have very little," Wolfram grumbled. There was a soft chuckle to which green eyes narrowed.

Then, Wolfram's eyes shot open and he clutched the tree to steady himself.

"Are you okay?" Yozak said. When he didn't get an immediate response, the thought of making the jump to Wolfram's side suddenly came to him.

"No…" It was an angry, low whine. "How did they…?" Wolfram's eyes searched the darkness. "A black aura at night is hard to see. I should have focused on the red edge."

"What do you mean?" Yozak said back in a harsh whisper.

"Oh…," he growled under his breath in Tra'va's feral way, "I should have thought of that." His blond head turned left and right desperately. "Show me, Tra'va! I need to see this." His heart began to beat hard.

"What?" Yozak demanded. It was loud enough for Conrad's ears to pick up.

Yuuri pulled on Conrad's sleeve to get his attention. "I just heard Yozak." Conrad nodded in agreement. This was not good. His mind raced. What could he do, and how could he protect Yuuri as well as the sage? But he heard Yozak's voice saying "What?"

Did Yozak need him? It was safer to stay where he was with the two young men he swore to protect. No, what he really needed was an update, he finally decided. This could be a simple case of a whole lot of "nothing." "I'm going to speak with him. Wait for me here."

"I'm coming, too," Yuuri insisted. He didn't want to be left out. Wolfram was over there and he knew that it would take a lot for a spy, such as Yozak, to be raising his voice.

"What about Murata?" Conrad said quickly, and Yuuri's eyes widened with realization.

* * *

"Damn," Wolfram said to himself. "I should have thought of that."

"Thought of…what…?" Yozak said, frustrated. His hands twitched, wanting to ball up.

"There's more than one way to leave that cave. There was a second door or opening or something…" His wide eyes searched the darkness again. "They're heading this way…through the trees…" His body turned in fractions, tracking them. Tensed. "Closer…! They know we're here…!" Then, Wolfram's face set hard. "There's three of them heading for… Yuuri!"

Dashing openly through the brush and the branches, the blond rushed for the place where he knew Yuuri, Conrad, and Murata to be hiding. Yozak, brandishing his sword, was following quickly behind. There was simply no time to tell Wolfram to stand aside. And, even if he did, it wouldn't have worked.

Yozak ran hard, breathing harder, and prayed that they'd survive this. Only in the next few minutes would he know if they would live or die. But Wolfram didn't care either way. His only thoughts were of Yuuri—whether out of love or loyalty, Yozak didn't know.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Love and magic have a great deal in common.

They enrich the soul, delight the heart.

And they both take practice"

- Anonymous

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.

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"Yuuri!" Wolfram shouted as he dove blindly into the thick, green brush where he knew the double black had been hiding.

Conrad had caught the sound of the rushed footsteps early on and had drawn his sword, but held back when he heard his brother call for Yuuri in his typically desperate, determined way.

Within seconds, Wolfram was at Yuuri's side with Yozak following up behind looking a little put out at the rash actions of the blond.

"I-I'm fine," Yuuri said, feeling embarrassed. He tilted his face down to the ground with the feeling that he didn't deserve Wolfram's sudden concern. But a part of him was relieved, (Or was "blessed" a better term? he wondered) for the rush of emotions that the blond had for him.

Standing next to Yuuri with a hand on his shoulder, Wolfram's milky-green eyes scanned the darkness. "We have to get out of here," Wolfram said in a rushed voice. "They know…" He was steering the double black away by the shoulder when Tra'va started yelling at him in a panicked voice. Wolfram hissed impatiently, body antsy with the need to get Yuuri some place safe, but he could understand the spirit's point. "Where's the sage?" Wolfram said bluntly to Conrad, who seemed to be distracted. His brown eyes were searching the inky background just as he had moments ago.

"Murata? He had to go." Yuuri pointed in the direction.

"Go?" Wolfram said incredulously. They needed to get out of here. Now!

"You know…" Yuuri said with a motion of his head towards the place they'd last seen Murata. "He had _to go_."

"Damn it!" Wolfram fumed. "Why couldn't he have just tied a knot in it and dealt with his problem that way?"

Yuuri, worried as he was, had a mouth like a thin line. "You sound like Trouble."

Wolfram narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. "If we don't find the sage in the next few minutes, Trouble is going to take over my body and set this whole damn forest on fire—lighting it up like a candle so that she can find her missing husband." The blond scrunched his eyes up tight and yelled, "That's not a HARD CONCEPT for you, IS IT?"

"You're shouting!" Yozak hissed.

"Yes," came Murata's voice from the darkness, "and it made it much easier for us to find you." His voice was flat, emotionless as he emerged with three armed, green robed men behind him. One was shoving a red rock into the small of his back. Murata's black eyes looked at the faces of his companions. "I suppose welcoming me back would be out of the question," he quipped and felt the rock in his back pushing him forwards.

"Go, you people," said a voice from behind Murata, "or he dies first."

"We'll cooperate," Yuuri assured him while he raised his hands defensively, "just don't do anything rash." And, for that, the double black got a blow to the head with a red stone. His body crumbled to the ground almost instantly, blackening out to the warped sound of Wolfram shouting his name.

* * *

"Dump his skinny ass over there," one of the robed figures said to Yozak. The spy entered the cave carrying Yuuri's slumped over body in his arms. Yozak did as he was told, looking grim, choosing to put his king down on a pile of potato sacks that was lying in front of a small crate of peaches and another filled with jam. Then, reluctantly, he joined the others, standing side by side against the same wall.

"Yuuri?" Wolfram whispered desperately to Yozak.

It pained the spy to see that expression on Wolfram's face, considering all he'd been through in the past few days. The orange haired man guessed that Wolfram, himself, didn't understand much of what he was feeling besides a sense of thinly "controlled worry" that bordered on panic.

"No blood, but he's out cold."

"Shut up, or you'll be next," the fat one promised. The portly figure in a green robe waddled up to the group. "Tie them and have them sit." The hooded face looked to his brethern and asked, "Who has the striped stone?"

"I do," said the tall, skinny one who lumbered after another man who was carrying the swords he'd collected from Yuuri's group, including Morgif. The skinny human pushed back his hood and let it fall down loosely along his shoulders. He was bald with blond eyebrows and a sharp, hawkish nose. "Here it is."

The portly one took the stone and examined it. "Could you tell which one it was, Theo?"

The bald man frowned at the question. "Sorry, Boss… The reading was too strong and spread out. It's more than just a magic sword or amulet…or whatever they've got on them. Oh, and by the way, I took four of our rocks off that short fella right there." He motioned to the sage. Murata ignored their leers and, instead focused his attention on what looked like a red stone in the thug's grip and observed it carefully as it was pointed at Yuuri. This stone, unlike the others he observed, deepened into to an almost crimson-black with little threaded veins inside. The portly one approached and Morgif moaned with displeasure. "Hmmm…magic sword…" The green robed leader scratched his chin in thought. Then, the stone was pointed at Yuuri again. The stone darkened once further still until it was almost a perfect copy of a chunk of obsidian. "What the…?" Boss grabbed Yuuri's limp body, patted him down, and unbuttoned the jacket.

"Leave him alone!" Wolfram snapped. Fury clearly written on him.

One of the hooded group stepped forward, grabbed him by the neck, and shoved Wolfram hard against the wall. "Cause more trouble, Blondie, and you die." The voice seemed familiar and he tried to place it. But that was when a fist pounded its way into Wolfram's stomach and the man laughed hard as the blond doubled over in pain—sinking to one knee. Conrad could do nothing to help his brother; he could only watch. Wolfram made gagging sounds and wretched with dry heaves. Slowly standing up, dizziness caught him and he fell awkwardly against Yozak's strong shoulder—and pressed something hard into his back. "Take this," Wolfram whispered.

Sky blue eyes widened as he snaked his hand casually behind him to take the dagger. _The one from his boot,_Yozak thought.

"And this one," the portly figure said.

Wolfram was grabbed roughly by the shirt and hauled forward by two men. Boss aimed the rock at him and chuckled at the results. "This one has a similar reaction with the stone." The stone came in close contact and turned dark, too. The blond felt confused. What were they talking about?

Pudgy hands touched him, fingers pressed in and searched. "Just like the other guy, there's nothing on him," the portly one said, feeling up Wolfram—running hands all over his chest a second time to make sure. Wolfram turned his head away in disgust. He didn't want anyone to touch him like that—feeling his skin through the thin shirt.

"A misreading?" the hawkish nosed Theo asked.

"I don't think so." The man scratched his stubbled chin a little. "It could be something that he's eaten or something that's inside of him." A hooded arm made a gesture towards Yuuri. "That one's probably the same way."

"We've done pretty well with enchanted swords and amulets. Do you think we can drain the energy from something that's alive?"

The apple shaped figure looked Wolfram up and down. "I'd say let's try it. Ordinarily, we'd get more power from setting them on fire than draining their life energy. But, these two seem to be pretty strong."

Conrad's brown eyes widened, "Life energy?"

"These guys can't be very bright," Murata whispered back with a soured, puckered face. "Life energy consists of the electrical impulses that every living being has. But, Mazoku have magic on top of that, and certain Mazoku, like Wolfram, can be even more powerful when wielding an element." He narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. "Now, add to the fact that both Yuuri and Wolfram have spirits inside of them—strong ones."

Murata's gaze drifted back to Yuuri—still unconscious next to the food supplies. Then, his eyes turned to the altar again. "No matter what, this cannot be good."

* * *

Yuuri was standing in a darkened room—a big one. But, he wasn't alone. Some instinct somewhere told him that. He shivered.

It was almost pitch black but, strangely, the floor had a soft, white glow to it. If he squinted hard enough, he could vaguely make out the pattern on the floor. It seemed familiar to him somehow. Yes, he'd definitely seen it before. His heart was beating hard. He felt exposed, alone, vulnerable. But, then, he looked down again… The floor, just seeing it, made him feel connected to something. And he clung on to that feeling.

A spot of blue light spilled down from the grand entryway and a single form walked into it and stood there for a second.

"Well, if it isn't…me," he said.

Yuuri's black, innocent eyes widened and he saw the man approaching him. The room brightened very slowly into a brown tint, like an old photograph. But, the figure in front of him was, just like himself, in full color.

"Hello, Yuuri," the deep voice said to him. The Maou's hands were in his pockets and his posture was casual. But his eyes were slits and they showed a maliciousness that was aimed at him.

"You're the…"

"Yes, I am," The Maou said and began to walk the length of the ballroom at a leisurely pace. The footsteps echoed in a lonely way—dying off somewhere.

It suddenly dawned on the double black where he was. Yuuri craned his head up and around. It was the ballroom in Blood Pledge Castle. That was why the floor was so familiar to him. It was a part of home. Yes, his home.

"Why are we here?" Yuuri asked, somewhere inside dreading the answer. He had felt the powerful spirit of The Maou within himself many times and had stopped him from behaving rashly—especially when it came to duels with Wolfram. But, this time, for some unknown reason, it felt like the roles were reversed. This time, Yuuri felt that he was the one who had behaved rashly, unfairly. And The Maou was going to let him have it by delivering a judgment of "justice."

The hollow footsteps continued. Yuuri walked around the ballroom, too, but with a timid pace. He blinked at everything. It was more than just the two of them, he realized. There was a party going on. The double black looked around. It was like being inside a three dimensional photograph. The people were stopped in the middle of living their lives. They were either tan or a dingy yellowish-white. Some were frozen in place while dancing. Others were standing around the drinks table chatting. He suddenly noticed Greta, in the new dress his mother had sent her, doing a pirouette for Gwendal to show off the fluffy way it poofed out when she turned. Gwendal's face, which was usually stern, was actually soft and Yuuri could practically read the man's mind. It said "cute."

"This was the Midsummer's Ball that we had three weeks ago," Yuuri said to himself out loud. "That's the only time Greta wore that dress." Then, he smiled a little to himself. "She wore the dress a second time but got caught in a rosebush and ripped it to shreds. She cried all afternoon over that."

"So, tears matter to you?" The Maou asked as he stepped aside to avoid a happy couple on the edge of the dance floor.

"Of course," Yuuri said from his side of the room.

"Interesting," The Maou observed and continued walking. His footsteps grew louder as he advanced.

Yuuri saw Lady Anissina chatting intimately with Raven. And the double black smirked a bit at that one. They really were quite charming together, both dressed up nicely in new clothes that almost seemed to match—almost as though the designer knew that they'd be with each other. Anissina was pressing an exotic drink from her "Let's-make-frozen-rainbow-wine-kun" into his hand, and Raven seemed to be enjoying the light feel of her fingertips on his. Anissina was saying something in his ear, words that he liked—obviously. A slightly wicked thought occurred. From his vantage point, Yuuri looked for Lady Cheri and found her, surrounded by handsome Mazoku men at a large table in the back of the room. In spite of that, her eyes were fixed on Raven's face and the ex-maou's smile seemed not quite so bright.

The double black felt his heart sink a little. Who was he kidding? Lady Cheri, who was surrounded by men, wasn't with the one she really wanted. And, knowing that now took some of the joy out of it. He wanted the impossible. He wanted everyone to be happy.

"So," The Maou said darkly, "where are you in this throng?"

"Me…?" Yuuri turned his head and looked—standing on tip toe. He remembered being all over the place that night. He took a few steps forward, circled around Anissina's brother, downing the last of his goblet, and spotted himself. Yuuri was surrounded by a group of female admirers. Lady Flurin Gilbert was one of them along with two of her friends from Caloria. The young daughters of Joshua von Grantz—distant cousins of Adelbert who wanted to let the king know just how "loyal" they were willing to be to gain his favor. Yuuri smirked a little at that memory. It felt good to have girls demanding his attention and practically pawing all over him. It was only when they'd become a major distraction, or rather "attraction" to everyone around them, that Günter jumped in to rescue his precious king.

The Demon King walked up behind a grinning Yuuri. "Now that you know where you are…where is…Wolfram?" He asked the question slowly and with meaning.

"Wolf…ram?" Yuuri said the name is a vague, distracted tone and with, once again, large eyes. "I dunno." He stood on tip toe again and scanned the room. "He's…ummm…right there." Yuuri pointed to a person who was about his height standing in the far corner of the ballroom. Wolfram was wearing his usual blue uniform, not the dress uniform that Günter had "suggested" which was, in fact, an order that the blond easily ignored. Wolfram's body was leaning casually against the wall with arms folded against his chest. His face looked like a mixture of anger and pain. His eyes, predictably, were locked on Yuuri and the women.

"Who is he to you again?" The Maou demanded to know as he approached the solitary figure. His black eyes examined the ex-prince in every detail. The Demon King bent down a bit to see into the face that was frozen with a look that Yuuri had a hard time taking in. Then, The Maou walked in an arc with the blond at the center—back and forth, pacing.

"I don't understand your question," Yuuri said, frowning.

The Maou stopped with a click of his heel in front of Wolfram and turned to face Yuuri. "This may be a ball…a celebration…but it is an event that is very _public_ and very _open_." He focused his eyes on the wide, curious face before him. "Do you understand that much?"

"Sure," the double black said with a shrug as though he were still with Günter taking lessons in the library.

The Maou rested a hand on Wolfram's shoulder. "Tell me his title and what he…is…"

"Well," Yuuri said and gave his head a good scratch, "he's…you know…'Wolfram.' He's the ex-prince…a soldier…kind of a brat…and a good friend…"

The Maou rested a hand on his hip and glared. "A 'good friend' that you slapped…making him your royal fiancé."

"And that," Yuuri admitted, feeling a slight blush.

The man before him, the one who seemed to be an older and more powerful version of himself, sighed impatiently. "In this culture…in this society…an 'engagement' holds the same weight as a marriage would in your world. The Mazoku wedding ceremony itself, which is _public_, is simply a party and a holiday for the people to enjoy."

Yuuri's eyes widened at that. Maybe he should have listened a bit more carefully to Günter when he discussed wedding rituals years ago. He'd probably just tuned the adviser out and thought about eating a picnic with Greta.

"Look at yourself…look at what you're doing," The Maou said, "and, now, look at those people." The Maou pointed to a group standing not far from Wolfram. It was more than dark amusement; it was schadenfreude. Most of them, Yuuri realized, belonged to the Ten Noble Families. The glow that they gave off was unmistakable.

The Maou now pointed to a couple standing together. It was Conrad and Yozak. Based on their body language, the double black guessed that the two of them were talking quietly, not wanting to be noticed which was probably why they were talking next to one of the large tapestries that Günter had hung from the ceiling. The spy was murmuring something that Conrad seemed to be agreeing to wholeheartedly. Conrad was wearing his dress uniform. Yuuri had seen it more than a few times. Yozak was dressed in a fine suit of clothes with ruffles peeking out at the cuffs. Yuuri's first impression was that Yozak, when dressed up as a man, was very handsome—impressively so.

"What do their expressions tell you? What are they feeling?"

Yuuri peered closer. "They're concerned…uncomfortable…maybe, worried…" He followed their gaze. They, too, were focused on Wolfram.

"At this moment," The Maou said, "you are publicly humiliating Wolfram." The voice grew deeper and angrier with each word. "But no one is willing to be crass enough to tell you that because you are the maou."

Yuuri withdrew a little into himself. He didn't know it was that way, honestly.

"How many times did you dance with Wolfram that night?"

"Eh?" The question surprised him. "He's…he's a guy and…and I…I've danced with men before but not…at the castle…but…"

The voice repeated sternly, "_How many_?"

Yuuri's heart lost courage. "I didn't."

"Everyone noticed."

Yuuri's eyes flicked to Wolfram's face again. Perfect blond hair, sweetly shaped features, lips curved…downward. There was more "hurt" there than "anger." He could see that now. It was just easier for him, in the past, to focus on the anger first because he could ignore it or brush it off as a minor detail caused by a bratty ex-prince. Yuuri knew that if he wanted to, he could embarrass Wolfram into submission by asking "What's wrong?" The blond would always come back with "nothing" and then he'd storm off. That would be the end of it. Or so it seemed…

The Maou's eyes glittered malevolently at Yuuri, and he didn't miss it. "The person who picked away at Wolfram's soul…_first_…was you, not that horrible fox woman."

"That can't be," Yuuri denied.

"Oh, really?" came the angry reply. "In the same way that it 'can't be' that you have a love letter in your right pocket?"

Yuuri lowered his head. This didn't seem fair. He had a right to a life—a life of his choosing. And, even if he was confused about Wolfram, he had a right to be confused.

"Shall I recite the letter to you…in case you forgot?" The Maou gritted out.

"No," Yuuri said with a shake of his head. The purple writing, the hearts, and the inked whispers of what she was willing to let him do when they were alone at the love hotel room Murata was getting for them.

"Yuuri, you seem to forget that what you see, _I see_. What you do…_I do as well_."

The double black nodded helplessly at that. He did forget and it was embarrassing. Through his eyes, The Maou saw and understood everything because they shared the same body.

The next thing Yuuri knew, a wide hand was on him and he was being forced to sit at an empty table. The Maou took the seat across from him. The Demon King relaxed in the chair, crossed his ankles, and laced his fingers together in contemplation. A smirk played on his lips.

Yuuri sat nervously. He laughed nervously, too, hoping that it would ease the tension between them.

It didn't work.

"Yuuri, I grow tired of this. I grow tired of you. I keep waiting for you and I'm disappointed every time." He gave the double black a hard, sideways glance. "So, I am going to give you a choice of two possible futures." He turned from a profile to a face-to-face cold stare. "You will pick one, or I will pick for you. Either way, it will be decided."

"What are you saying?" Yuuri's black eyes turned away to Wolfam and then back again. Maybe, he was going to approve of what Wolfram had done to free himself. Maybe he was going to tell Yuuri to let the blond leave his life for good. The double black wasn't sure he could handle that. He knew he needed his blond by his side. They had grown close over the years. And he craved the odd, irreplaceable companionship that came from Wolfram's devotion, fellowship, and debates.

"Future number one," The Maou said with a finger raised. "You will rule Shin Makoku, as you swore you would when you came of age…and I will accept that… with limitations."

"Limitations?" He couldn't understand it.

"On Earth, I will allow you to do as you please. You may have as many dalliances as you want, sleep with whomever you desire…at any particular time you choose. I won't notice such things. I won't utter a word about it. And I will endure it."

Yuuri blushed at the openness.

"However," The Maou said with an edge, "in this world…even though you may rule our kingdom…you cannot have anyone by your side…not even Wolfram."

"What?" _I'll have no one with me… I'll be alone here._

"And Wolfram will be my fiancé, not yours, Yuuri."

The double black took in a sharp breath.

"The last of his things will be moved out of your bedroom, and he will have a suite of rooms on the opposite side of the castle. He will have servants of his own as well. So, there's no reason why he even has to dine with you each night…unless he chooses to with Greta… and, most certainly, he will never sleep next to you again."

Yuuri's jaw was on the floor at that.

"I will allow you to be 'just friends,' but your contact will be restricted."

The double black tightened a fist. He could feel his blood pressure rising. "You're making a lot of decisions for Wolfram on your own," he shot back. "'Maou' or not, you have to understand that Wolfram is an adult and can make his own choices."

"Choices? I don't think you've given Wolfram very many…_choices_." The eyes with black slits regarded him.

Feeling braver, the double black continued. "Wolfram…I think…wants more than just living alone on the opposite side of the castle." Yuuri pointed to the figure standing on his own in the corner. "He needs people in his life…He needs…"

"…Someone…?" the king suggested. "…Someone who loves him…besides that flying fox spirit?"

There was something terribly frail about Wolfram standing there now.

The taller man smiled. "Yes, someone…I agree with you, Yuuri." The Maou laced his fingers together again with a dark smile. "And, on the day of the wedding, I will be the one standing at Ulrike's altar, not you."

Yuuri looked away, not believing what he was hearing.

The Maou's shoulder length hair drifted with the soft haze of blue energy that wrapped around him. "Wolfram will be my husband…not yours."

"But…I'm…" After that, Yuuri began to stammer, making sounds that were not coherent.

"You see, Wolfram is under the impression that the two of us are one person—one very confused person. Half loves him and half doesn't. Guess which half you are…"

Yuuri ran a hand nervously through his hair.

"Of course, there is the possibility that the two of us could merge someday in the future into a truly awesome being." Yuuri felt on edge. This was all so new to him. "Oh, it is possible," The Maou said, "but it won't happen if I'm the only one married to Wolfram. His future and his happiness will not be compromised just because you cannot accept a marriage with the most beautiful Mazoku we've ever known." He gave a smirk and said, "I'll keep our souls and our energies separate…along with our lives."

"And…the other future…?" Yuuri asked hesitantly.

The Demon King quirked a smile at the double black before answering, "You will be faithful. No others. And there will be three of us in this marriage—you, me, and Wolfram."

Yuuri's eyes widened again. "Wha-?"

"Until…you prove to me that you can be a husband in every way…publicly," he gestured to the room, "and privately… I won't merge my soul with yours. So, Wolfram will have, in essence, two husbands."

"Wolfram…married to…both of us." It almost sounded like the arrangement that Tra'va had with Murata and Yozak—the difference being that both he and The Maou shared the same body.

"You can't just make decisions about me like that! It's unfair!" He narrowed his black eyebrows.

"What's 'unfair' is living inside of you and bearing witness to all of the thoughtless things you do." He cocked his head sideways and his face softened. "What's 'unfair' is the fact that I've allowed it to continue without giving an ounce of comfort to someone I care for…someone I knew was suffering."

The Maou stood up from his seat. "With or without your help, I will win Wolfram's trust back…and deserve it. And I will seek out a way to repair the damage that's been done to his soul. It may take years, in fact, but I will do it."

"I want that, too," Yuuri insisted. "I want him to trust me, and I want to have him back as he was before... And, I want more time…so that I can understand what I feel."

The Maou shook his head. "_What you want_ is in that note in your pocket. _What I want_ is Wolfram's heart."

* * *

Yuuri's wrists were hurting, constricted and secured behind his back. He tried to move again, still groggy from being hit so hard, but it wasn't possible.

_What happened? I think I was talking to The Maou before…but now…_

Cautiously, he opened one eye and then the other—taking everything in for the first time.

It was more than a cave. Based on the thickly "drizzled" appearance of the walls with layers of dust and grime, it seemed that someone had, long ago, melted out a huge cavern inside the grassy hill. There was an ornately carved rectangular altar with an oblong impression cut into it. The altar was covered with a mesh tablecloth, and, on the floor around it, there was a circle—or, rather, a series of rectangular impressions set in a circle. Hanging above the altar were dust-covered, grey tapestries with words written in a language Yuuri couldn't even begin to identify. Two large jugs of oil—much like the ones Yuuri ordered for the kitchen at Blood Pledge Castle, stood by the entrance near him and two were by a large doorway leading into another part of the cavern, Yuuri guessed. And, in a small, wooden crate a few paces away, there was a collection of colorless crystals. Each crystal was the size of a man's fist.

"Boss? What do I do with these?" Theo looked down at the red rocks he'd gotten from Murata.

"Are they low?" He quirked an eyebrow.

He held them up to one of the sconces burning on the wall. Murata's dark eyes saw that and he held his breath. "Please don't explode," he muttered to himself. "I could get blasted with shards."

"Yup, I'd say so."

"Then put 'em next to the altar. I'll get to it all when I can."

"Sure thing," Theo said and dumped the little red pile unceremoniously. Murata saw it and chewed his lower lip. "They don't like being treated like that," the sage grumbled.

"Hey, the black headed one's awake," said the hawkish nosed man. He pointed to Yuuri.

_I guess, he doesn't know who I am. Then, that means this isn't political._

"Yuuri? Are you okay?" Conrad whispered. His wrists were tied behind him, like everyone in their group now.

The double black nodded and forced his body into a sitting position without the use of his hands. It was hard, but he managed. One of the hooded men walked to his side and glared down menacingly.

_I guess, everyone's got a beef with me today_, Yuuri thought.

The apple shaped leader tossed his hood back, too. He revealed the face of someone scarred in battle. He had a slash mark across his left cheek and nose. There seemed to be scars on his chin and neck as well. "We'll start with that one." He pointed to Wolfram. "Bring him over."

One of the hooded men jumped at the chance. "With pleasure," he said. And, again Wolfram couldn't quite place the voice even though he knew it.

The blond Mazoku found himself being dragged and then seated roughly on the altar while the tubby leader stood off to the side and pointed a sword at his throat. _It would have to be Conrad's sword they're using_, Wolfram thought darkly. Conrad, seeing it, felt sick inside.

"Strap him down," the leader ordered.

From out of a rough sack, a coil of thin leather was brought out. Two of the men cut strips and brought them over to secure Wolfram to the altar.

"We'll have to free his hands for a second," the familiar voice said. "But, before we do…" He walked over to their leader, took the sword, and placed the tip to Murata's chest. The sharp edge pressed into Murata's jacket. It sliced easily into the material enough to make a hole. The sage tried not to look frightened, but, without a doubt, he was.

"One false move, Blondie, and he dies. I'll let you watch."

From behind, a blade cut Wolfram's wrists free of the rope.

Sitting on the altar and rubbing his aching wrists, Wolfram briefly considered the turn of events. He still had a grudge against Murata—a deep one. His mind kept flashing back to the hallway and Murata's encouragement of Yuuri's betrayal. Wolfram wasn't kidding himself when he thought of the happy prospect of the sage bleeding. He could make a move now, set loose several fireballs, rescue Yuuri, and allow the sage to die in a red puddle on the floor. A cruel smirk came to him as he locked eyes with wide black ones. _Why not? It's not like his death would be permanent. He'd just get reincarnated again._For the first time since they'd met, he saw true fear in Murata's eyes. Then, Wolfram stretched his body out submissively. Tra'va, he knew, would be like Yuuri and would never forgive him. Wolfram offered his wrists—which surprised his captors. Hands grabbed at his body eagerly and with force. His legs were spread apart. The leather bit into him as he was secured fast and hard, wrists and ankles, against the table-like structure.

"You must really love your husband," the man said, throwing his cowl back. Wolfram's eyes widened at the short blue-green hair and eyes. It was the server. The tavern owner's son.

"But, I thought it was just humans," Wolfram breathed.

"Just businessmen," the server corrected. "And our little band does quite a lot of business making people disappear." Then, he stroked a finger against Wolfram's cheek. "Hey, Blondie…your eyes have changed color since the last time I saw you. Did you know that?" He grabbed a fistful of Wolfram's hair. It hurt and Wolfram clinched his jaw. "I think this green color is much better on you than the red contacts you were wearing earlier." Then, he punched Wolfram in the face, enjoying the feeling of putting his fist into Wolfram's cheek. "And that's for giving me the finger that time!" he bellowed.

Yuuri tried to make it to Wolfram's side but his guard held him back by the collar. "Just wait until it's your turn," the man laughed at him.

"My turn?" Yuuri looked from him to the altar, confused.

Boss lumbered by with something heavy in his hands.

Wolfram's head swam—and not just from the blow. Suddenly, the blond could feel his stomach lurch uncomfortably—as though he'd been drinking all night and needed to vomit. Unable to move from the altar, he turned his head to the side and began gasping for air to calm it down. Then, his eyes caught sight of the six green garbed figures with their hoods down. Three of them were, in fact, human and three were Mazoku. They all were hauling bricks.

"So, you found two of our associates and stole the stones from them, huh?" the tubby leader said casually, now on the floor picking up what looked like a brick with oval, yellow jewels set into it. With care, he slid it gingerly inside the impression set into the floor with a deep, rumbling, grainy sound. "I don't mind it so much. They were human supremacists and had their own agenda with their take of the money. Talk about trouble from the start." Once the brick was in place, it made a "thunk" and then the jewels lit up with a soft amber glow. He placed another brick down.

Wolfram could feel something was draining him. But, exactly what was doing it was beyond him.

"This one's dirty," the leader said to Theo. "Clean it with the holy oil." He handed the brick over and grabbed another one to keep on task.

"What are you doing to him?!" Yuuri demanded and got shoved roughly back for that one.

"You'll see," his guard answered.

Another brick was put in place with a dull sound following it. To Yuuri's distress, Wolfram's eyes shot open and he struggled against his bonds. The blond tried to fight back a groan, but it was done poorly. Everyone could hear it. And the echoes in the cavern made the moment an eternity.

"What's going on?" Conrad whispered quickly to the sage. If he could understand, maybe he could form a strategy.

Murata's eyes cut to the bald man walking past them with the clean brick.

"It's old magic—magic from the time Shinou was a child."

"Shinou was once a child?" Conrad whispered back, incredulously.

There was a vague nod from the sage that was meant to look like he was watching the ceiling. "I think it's a conveyance altar. And these people have no idea what they've really got."

Brown eyes glanced. "What does it do…exactly?"

"When a magical item was broken—such as a sword—and was beyond repair, the power within it could be shifted, transferred. From what I've read, they stored the power in some sort of "sacred" amber stones blessed with holy oil." Murata stopped and pretended to watch the ceiling again. "These simians have taken it a step further and powered their 'houjutsu toys' as Tra'va calls them."

"Those red crystal rocks?" Conrad whispered.

"The same," the sage murmured back while watching more of the amber speckled bricks being gathered. They almost circled the altar at this point—casting a yellow-white glow. The sage licked his drylips. "But if they over charge those with power…or if they're thrown into a fire…smash on the ground…?" He raised an eyebrow at the prospect. "Ka-boom," he whispered with satisfaction.

Another green robed figure walked by but gave them a stare to see if they were chatting. Both looked bored, heads down a little.

"So, could they build another one of these?" Conrad asked, now worried if this got into the hands of a strong enemy like Big Cimaron.

"No," Murata murmured. "Most likely, they stumbled across the altar here…buried long, long ago."

"Why couldn't they make another one if they can use this one?"

The sage fought back a smirk. "Lord Weller, do you remember televisions back on Earth?"

"Yes," Conrad whispered and then looked to the ground as another green robed figure passed by.

"Can you operate a television?"

"Yes."

"Can you build one?"

Brown eyes widened a little. "No."

"My point exactly."

* * *

From where he was sitting, Yuuri's ears could catch faint whispers between Murata and Conrad. He hoped, in his heart of hearts, that they were discussing a way to free themselves. His eyes were locked on Wolfram. And he watched the blond writhe more with each brick that slid into place.

On his knees, the leader contemplated the next amber brick in his hand. "Not bad for old hoseki bricks."

"Old hoseki…?" the sage murmured to himself with his head down, seemingly, in a submissive way. "No…he means _amber_ _hoseki_." He practically stared a hole into the floor at that point. "That stuff's rare…and powerful. So, that's the secret to the altar." He lifted his chin up to examine the circle of bricks around Wolfram. He was shocked to discover that the blond, somehow, had enough strength to try to fight his bonds. The veins in his neck stood out like tree roots with each twist that he made. But, being drained from just the proximity, Wolfram wasn't able to do more than writhe.

"Last one," Boss said with satisfaction. His job could be tedious at times.

"No!" Yuuri trembled and stood helplessly. His guard laughed at the face he was making.

When the final brick was put into place, a beam of light shot down from the ceiling and directly into the victim's chest. It bore into his soul and began to siphon off what it could easily reach.

Wolfram screamed.

Both Conrad and Yozak wanted to rush forward but found red stones aimed at them.

The beam intensified and Wolfram screamed again with his body feeling like it was on fire; all eyes on him now. He was shedding tears with jerking movements of his arms and legs. Suddenly, the beam narrowed and changed color to a faded blue, and the body jerked with the next pitiful scream torn from the blond's throat.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri couldn't breathe. He fell to his knees.

Wolfram threw his head back again—another cry of agony. But, this time, Wolfram's form on the altar blurred. Hovering, like a double exposed photograph, was the outline of the body of a fox woman. She cried as Wolfram cried; his movements, her movements.

"What, the hell, is that?" Theo shouted to Boss. "That blond guy had a monster inside of him!" The other robed men, including Boss, moved back. And Yuuri's guard stared down at him with disgust. "I'll bet you've got one of those in you, too, huh?" he said. But Yuuri never heard his words. All he could see was _his blond, his Wolfram_, being tortured with no way to help.

With labored breathing, Wolfram opened his green eyes to look at Yuuri. Tra'va's face did the same. The pain that they shared was impossible to endure for long.

"Tra'va?" Wolfram whispered hoarsely.

_Yes…_

"You know what I want. Can you do it?" His voice shook, barely able to speak. But speaking reminded him that he was still alive.

_I can try…_

"Then, do it!"

Wolfram's fingernails changed color to a deep purple, grew sharp, and formed long talons. Quickly, they flicked back and cut the leather straps binding his wrists to the altar. With a sharp "pop," they were freed.

Weak and lightheaded, the blond forced his body to sit on the edge of the altar—the light beam behind him now. He was breathing hard through the burning pain, as though he'd finished a marathon run. The stones circling the altar pulsed in sequence. It made him want to vomit.

To Yuuri's surprise, Wolfram's eyes darkened to blood red and he pointed a finger at him.

The animalistic voice said, "Yuuri! Run!"

A thin shot of purple light hit the guard in the head.

A wave of nausea came again. "To Hell with this!" Downwardly, a fireball was launched at the floor.

"No!" the sage screamed at Wolfram, but found himself being held back by Conrad as the amber bricks exploded upwards toward the ceiling.

"Somebody grab our swords!" Yozak yelled among the smoke and crystal debris raining down. He pulled out the dagger, threatened one of the robed men with it, and went, instead, for the altar.

Black wings slumped after pushing themselves out, leaving bloody tear trails down Wolfram's back. He whimpered at it. He could hear "_I'm sorry_" in his mind. Exhausted now, Wolfram's body remained stationary; his legs were still tied. In spite of himself, he fell backwards onto the remains of the altar—breathing hard. He just needed a minute, he told himself, just a chance to clear his head.

"Let's cut you loose," Yozak said to Wolfram, trying to avoid the wings that were now spread open. The orange haired man wasn't sure if he was talking to Wolfram or Tra'va. But he guessed it was probably both.

Running out of the cave, the tavern owner's son slammed into another one of his brethren. A shoving match ensued with the end result of them both getting away but the two jars of oil, near Yuuri, had been sloshed over in a semi-circle—making a barrier that quickly set on fire with the next exploding amber stone.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram wailed with Trouble's voice—forcing his body up on shaking legs. He was standing on the altar now.

Yozak ran to help Yuuri next, running with the stride of an athlete. But smoke from the magical fires and exploding crystals was quickly filling the cavern.

"Yozak!" Wolfram shouted.

The man stared up at him.

"I'll get Yuuri. You get everyone else out!" Wolfram opened the spirit's wings and began to push down, getting some lift.

Yozak gave a dubious look, nodded with reluctance, and got down to business.

_Wolfram!_ Tra'va called in a terrified voice, _What are you doing?!_

_Rescuing Yuuri!_

They lifted from the ground. Wings flapped heavily, taking a lithe body high above the altar. Eyes scanned the chaos below: of fights breaking out on one side between Conrad and Yozak against two of the Mazoku thugs while the sage scrambled to collect their swords. Morgif moaned complaints all the way.

Without Tra'va's ability to see Yuuri's soul, it would have been impossible to find him over the smoke and flames that had now spread to the supplies and crates. Just behind him, the four stones that had been retrieved from Murata caught fire near the altar and exploded—projecting hunks of ornately carved wood and precious metals.

"He's there!" Wolfram said, seeing that the double black had retreated to avoid the wall of angry flames and smoke that were threatening him.

But the blond felt hesitation. It came from Tra'va. _You don't understand what you're risking. If we fail…we…_ She didn't need to finish the thought. He knew they'd never reach the shrine.

_We won't fail._ They sped through a wall of black, oily smoke.

_I'm not so sure, Wolfram. _

_Trust me in this._

_Why should I? Besides, I don't think I'm strong enough anymore._ He could feel it. She was defensive because she was tired and afraid. Wolfram could understand that. He had lived that way for so long.

_Yes, you are! And trust me because…_ He had to say it. He was desperate for her help. He needed it…for Yuuri's sake. _Trust me because… you love me._

Tears that didn't belong to him fell from his eyelashes as they flew.

_That was…unfair, Wolfram._

_I know it was._

Wolfram's arms found the double black and wrapped themselves around him. And, surprisingly, Yuuri's body instantly melded into his without a single word or wimpish hesitation.

A blond head looked upwards. Yes, they'd have to go back that way. The ceiling was high enough and Tra'va's bat-like wings could make sharp turns. "Hold onto me. We're getting out of here, Yuuri."

The smooth wings pushed hard against the rolling, hellish smoke. The body, carrying its heavy burden, lifted into the air and over the flames.

Wolfram's eyes widened when he realized that Boss was in front of the entrance, blocking the way with a red stone in each hand pointed at them. He grinned at the bat-winged angel clutching the raven haired young man. "Idiot!" There was no way the blond menace was going to destroy his livelihood and leave this place alive.

"Faster! Make a shield and mow him down if you have to, Tra'va," Wolfram ordered.

With the last of her strength, she obeyed. Yes, he had asked her to trust him. And, foolishly, she did—gladly accepting the most likely outcome.

But love has a way of making you do crazy, even hopeless, things.

* * *

Wolfram was lying on his side with Yuuri wrapped protectively in his arms. They had skidded across the landscape, crashing into shrubs and rocks with the ground making road rash, cuts, and scrapes all down the left side of Wolfram's head, neck, arm, and leg. Yuuri suffered, too. But, Wolfram had held him so tightly that his injuries were minimal.

They rested in a small clearing. It was a carpet of grass surrounded by pine trees leaning in the direction that the wind typically blew. Wolfram had, from the start, folded Tra'va's wings back so that they wouldn't catch on anything or break in the fall that he knew was coming. Still, he didn't regret using the wings to fly, pick up speed, and blast them out. But, in the end, it wasn't "flying" so much as it was a barely controlled fall.

He was lying there with his light green bottle eyes half lidded. He could feel something warm and wet trickling down his neck and spreading out from his head. It was blood, Wolfram guessed. He had a vague curiosity about the extent of his injuries, but it didn't stay with him long. Yuuri was more important. And the double black was still lying in his arms.

Wolfram held him close. It was like they were back home and Yuuri was sleeping quietly. Only, when he was like that, Wolfram knew better than to try to touch him. He'd get a sharp elbow in the ribs and a sleep-laced grumble to "back off." But, now… _If this is the only way I can ever hold you…_he thought, cuddling the limp body in his arms even though he was feeling distracted by the sharp head pains that were creeping up on him. He breathed in the scent that was typically Yuuri. It was a comfort. Holding one's mate for the last time, he guessed, should always be like that—a comfort. _You're fine. You will be fine. And I'm glad that you'll continue on…._

Through the brush, Conrad and Yozak were half dragging Murata. He'd gotten a lung full of black smoke and he was coughing hard with each step that the two men made—taking him along for the ride with bent knees. Murata's head was down and he wanted to throw up, he'd been coughing so much.

Catching sight of Wolfram and Yuuri, Conrad gently lowered Murata to the grass and stumbled to Wolfram's side.

The blond had his back to Conrad. He was still holding Yuuri, but, sensing his brother, Wolfram relaxed his fingers. His grip was loosening. Yes, Conrad was here now and could care for Yuuri in his place. And that would be a good thing, he promised himself.

"Yuuri? Wolfram?" Conrad choked out. His heart clinched. Tears were coming to him. There were blood stains on the grass.

_He calls to Yuuri first._ Then, a dark chuckle that came out as a choking sound. _Of course he would. Yuuri's his godson. Yuuri's our king. What was I thinking? _Green eyes stared forward without blinking. His lips were parted slightly.

There was a large, warm hand on Wolframs forearm. It gently shook him. Conrad tried again as Yuuri opened his onyx eyes. The blond let Yuuri go entirely, and his body slumped onto the grass. Green eyes watched it with little emotion other than a flicker of relief.

"That hurts," Yuuri moaned as his memories of what just happened came flooding back to him. His eyes widened and then he forced himself up into a sitting position, a hand to his throbbing head. "Wolfram, I…" The double black's voice trailed away as he saw Wolfram lying next to him. But, what his eyes took in and what his mind could accept were two different things.

Wolfram's blond hair was stained red on his left side with a little pool forming and spreading out. The rest of his body, still lying on its side, wore a shredded shirt that was slowly turning crimson, blood oozed out from underneath, and torn trousers.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered, his hand shaking as it went to touch soft, perfumed blond hair that was quickly taking on the stench of blood.

"It's over. You're safe," Wolfram uttered in a tired voice. His half lidded eyes tugged down.

"You'll be fine," Yuuri said, but his tone was terrified and he was saying it more to himself than his ex-fiancé.

Green eyes narrowed a little. "Stop looking so afraid, wimp."

"Wimp," Yuuri said, his voice trembling openly. He roughly wiped a tear coming from his right eye. "Yes, that's me_. The Wimp._ You're never afraid, huh?" He tucked back a strand of his own raven hair as he spoke. He had to do something with his hands because, more than anything, he wanted to take the blond before him into his arms and cry his heart out. "Huh, Wolfram?"

To that, Wolfram blinked slowly. "Afraid? I've been terrified of you for a long time now."

"What?" Conrad said, not understanding it. He reached down to take Wolfram's hand, trying to give it some of his warmth. Something was wrong. It was _very_wrong. Wolfram loved Yuuri. He didn't fear him. Everybody knew that.

"Come on, Wolfram. You're not afraid of me," Yuuri said with a tearful chuckle, his eyes streaming. Wolfram was, obviously, far more injured than he had thought.

Wolfram forced his body to stretch a little and rolled fully onto his back—leaving a red smear stain on the grass that alarmed the double black. He trembled. A damp cold was sinking into his bones.

"Yes, afraid…of you…" Wolfram almost smiled at the memories now. All of his tantrums, his worries, his tears—changed absolutely nothing. "For so long, I was afraid that you would find someone else and leave me…alone…unloved." His lips curved upward. "And that's just what you did."

Yuuri's face was bowed down, eyes shadowed by his hair. His hands were on his knees—gripping them tightly, knuckles white.

"And…I'm…glad."

Yuuri shook his head "no." That had to be a lie. Wolfram was lying to him just so that he could save face.

The blond wondered for a brief second whether he'd realized this because part of his soul had been chipped away, or if it was because he was at the point of letting go. Maybe both. "No, I'm honest," Wolfram said and raised a tired hand up to wipe Yuuri's cheek. Tears were dripping down to his chin and falling. "Yuuri… Once you've truly faced the worst that can happen to you…there's nothing left to be afraid of."

"Wolfram…" His voice cracked saying the name. He looked to the blond who had eyes sliding shut.

"Hold Greta for me… I wish I could…"

"Wolf-?

"I'm sorry, Tra'va," the blond whispered, seeing her in his mind's eye. Like Wolfram, she had collapsed, wings bent at unnatural angles. Her pink eyes held a mix of regret and terror. She'd just sacrificed everything for Wolfram because she loved him.

The blond sighed her name again. "You're so weak now. I never took you to the shrine as I promised."

Conrad tightened his grip on Wolfrm's hand and turned to look, almost desperately, at Yozak.

Yozak had an arm around the sage. Murata's coughing fit and stopped, but he was still gasping hard for breath with watery eyes latched onto Wolfram.

The blond continued, "I'm sorry we never made it. Look what's going to happen to you." He took a pained breath and said, "But, I'll go with you…to the void…I'll hold you…and you'll never be alone again."

"The void?" Yuuri, vision blurred with tears, turned to Murata. "What's…What's that?"

The sage gave him an unreadable expression. He forced himself to answer even though he didn't want to. "It's a place where evil spirits go for all eternity. They can never reach the heavenly realm from there." He lowered his head, remembering that the fox spirit wanted so badly to leave before time ran out, to make it to the shrine to continue her journey. And she would have, had they not pressed her into staying. "It's like 'death' for the dead."

"And Wolfram wants to go there…with her?" Yuuri's onyx eyes widened.

"Apparently."

"I know you love me…" Wolfram murmured with his eyes shut. "Tra'va."

It was an incredulous stare that the double black gave him. _He thinks she's the only one who does._

Wolram's body slumped very slowly, but the wry smile was still there. The pale hand that Conrad was holding grew limp.

"Wolfram?" Conrad's broken whisper stabbed at Yozak. It had been many years since he'd last heard that tone from his captain and dearest friend.

"No." Yuuri shook his head in pathetic little jerks. He wanted to cry, to yell, and, finally, to break something. A last tear, an angry one this time, streaked down the curve of his face. "I won't allow it," Yuuri said with determination that sounded like The Maou. The voice deepened. "I said I won't allow it!" His fists clinched. "You cannot _die_!"

Yuuri's chin raised to the sky. His body changed—hair lengthened to his shoulders. His jaw widened. Then his eyes flicked quickly into orbs with black slits. The wind picked up, harsh and cruel. Clouds gathered, threatening rain, with bolts of lightning streaking through the sky.

The Maou's profile, edged in an angry blue haze, was a kind of burning fury. And thin bands of energy swirled around them, almost seeking a target for vengeance instead of justice.

"Hold him," The Maou commanded to Conrad, whose face betrayed the shock he was feeling.

Without a second thought, the soldier did it—hoisting his little brother into his arms. The blond's body was loose, heavy, and slightly warm. It was like holding a very large, very heavy newborn.

"Turn his face to you…into your chest."

Conrad gave a nod and did it.

The Maou shot Yozak a hard glare. "The whisky! You have some with you. I can feel it," he commanded with a hand stretched out. And Yozak immediately rammed his large, callused hand into his pocket for the modest supply that he had on him.

"How did you know?" Yozak asked, almost timidly, handing it over.

"You have a mix of water and whiskey. I can sense my own element around me. The alcohol taints it." Opening the flask, The Maou poured the alcohol on Wolfram's head—revealing the site where the blood was coming from. It was a deep, ragged slash into the side of his head, probably made by an impact with a sharp rock, causing the head to bleed heavily and clot into sickening globs. Part of the scalp was torn and hanging, showing a pink, meaty strip of hair covered flesh.

Conrad, seeing it, closed his brown eyes and turned his face away with a groan.

With expressionless eyes, The Maou hovered his green glowing hands over Wolfram's head and more blood came pouring out. Conrad, seeing it, felt himself unable to breathe.

Snakelike eyes glared at Conrad. "If he can endure the feel of it, you can endure the sight of it. So, hold him still."

_Some part of him is still…conscious?_It was a hideous thought. But Conrad nodded shakily and held his brother securely against him. He knew that he was a soldier—they were both soldiers. But, this was the brother that he rocked in his arms the moment he was born. The one he promised to always protect. It was the same promise that he'd made about Yuuri, too.

The Maou pressed the loose skin back into place and another bright green glow came almost immediately. Wolfram's body jerked uncontrollably, like an electric shock had passed through. The Maou shot an angry look at Conrad. Through gritted teeth,"I said to hold him still." He tried again and the skin began to mend itself at an impressive rate. Then, with one single pull, The Maou shredded the last of Wolfram's ragged shirt. Everyone jumped at the sound of the material ripping apart. And they watched as the rags were flung carelessly upon the grass.

The healing hands made slow movements down the bare neck and back with long slashes where the wings had once been—working his way lower still before making one last healing effort on the blond's head.

"The bleeding was bad," The Maou said simply. He didn't bother to elaborate. He didn't need to. An extra burst of healing power came from his palms and the king closed his eyes tightly. This was draining him.

Wolfram took a sharp breath once The Maou had finished and he felt his body being embraced with desperate fingers digging into his bare arm and back. With effort, he opened his eyes. He turned his face up to see a very relieved Conrad holding him. His older brother tightened his grip and tucked a blond head under his chin. "Oh, Wolfram," he whispered in a tone that sounded very much like a deeper version of "little big brother's" voice. The blond had, for a brief moment, the urge to swat Conrad away. But, he didn't. He told himself that his body was simply too heavy, and he didn't want to waste his energy doing it. But, somewhere inside, he was feeling pity for his brother. The man's face, though smiling, seemed to show an unspeakable torment.

Feeling weak, Wolfram's eyes slid shut again and he wandered into pain-filled dreams—snippets of conversations and faces he knew, but too fast, like sand falling through his fingers.

"Give him to me," The Maou ordered, without allowing Conrad the chance for a reply.

The blond's body was passed from loving arms to loving arms.

Wolfram, waking up a bit because he was jostled, vaguely noted to himself that the new body was warm, too, but reeked of an odd mix of scents: oily smoke, sweat, dirt, blood, and grass. But, there was also the faint smell of Yuuri's spicy Earth cologne. In spite of everything, it still clung to his skin.

The Maou was sitting on the ground, cross legged now, with a slightly confused and very groggy blond in his lap.

"Yuuri…" Wolfram said with a dull sigh. Of course, he'd have to be the one to heal him. No one else in their group had that power. But Wolram's eyes grew large when he realized it was Yuuri in _Maou Mode_. He was also greeted with a sexy smile.

"Surprised?"

"A little," Wolfram answered honestly. He winced when The Maou ran his fingers through his hair to pull out the last of the gravel and twigs. A hand cupped Wolfram's cheek. Wolfram colored slightly at the gesture, which amused The Maou to no end because it was a sign—a good one. As Demon King, watching through his other half's eyes, his feelings for Wolfram were clear. In fact, they had been very clear to him for awhile now.

"I'm sorry, but…I could not allow you to die," The Maou told him. He toyed with a dusty, blond curl as he said it.

"Why?" Wolfram asked, his milky-green eyes questioning. It would have been so easy to let go. A relief, in fact, but a burden to those left behind.

The king quirked his lips into a faint smile. "Because…you do not have permission."

Wolfram almost laughed at that ridiculously lame excuse—one totally unworthy of the justice loving maou, but stopped himself. Just the thought of laughing made his headache pound. But he managed to keep a sincere expression on his face when he said, "Thank you…I owe you my life."

The Maou leaned in, brushed his lips against Wolfram's and whispered, "You _are_my life… inamorato."

"Why?" Wolfram asked. His heart could not accept it so easily—not after what Yuuri had done.

The embrace that followed was warm, loving. "Why, beloved? Because you are my tie to this world, to this time, and to our people. My soul is bonded to you so strongly and yours is also." A hand caressed Wolfram's back. "And if you did not feel it, too—our bond—then, you would not have tried so hard to sever it by chipping away your soul."

A blond head nestled against him. "It was for the best…to let go of an impossible dream. I was hurt, but I was trying to do what would make you happy in the end, Yuuri. You deserve that… In fact, you still do." He took a shallow breath and added, "When you change back, I mean." _When you go back to the Yuuri I'm with most of the time. _

A blond head turned up to see The Maou's reaction. He could guess what it was.

Predictably, The Demon King's expression narrowed but Wolfram refused to back down or turn his head away. What he just said was true—every word of it.

Onyx eyes softened a little. Wolfram had been through a lot and he knew it. They would have to start over, the three of them, from the beginning if they were to have a future. "Then, I will have to teach you what 'love' means."

"You're welcome to try." A faint smile shined up at him.

The simple kiss that followed was slow, wet, and comforting for them both. And, when it was over, Wolfram's eyes darkened to a medium shade of green.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Wolfram sat in the grass. He'd picked a few blades and split them down the center—watching them divide with a slight interest. He'd been sitting there, shirtless and covered in dried blood, for about fifteen minutes.

Yozak and Conrad stayed behind to round up the four thugs who were left—either passed out from smoke inhalation or trapped in the far recesses of the cavern with a stuck side door that they were desperate to open but couldn't because of the sweltering heat swelling the door shut. The former included Boss.

As they worked securing the prisoners, Yozak and Conrad discussed putting out wanted posters for the two missing men.

"You'll never find them," Boss grumbled back almost as a challenge. The spy smirked. Boss was in a dream world if he really believed that one. Yozak suspected that the tavern owner's son would be easily recognizable in the area, and he was fairly certain that someone somewhere would want that reward money.

Wordlessly, Yuuri and Murata followed Wolfram down the trail leading back to the city. The blond appeared to be weary, barely awake, with the stride of someone who was moving because he was driven by something stronger than mere willpower. Half way there, Wolfram, who had been feeling sluggish and thick, had a dizzy spell and stopped in his tracks with the heel of his hand pressing to his temple—making Yuuri worry with his large onyx eyes widening as he tilted his head. Murata, who was closer, briefly considered trying to lend Wolfram a shoulder to lean on until he received a hard, sideways glance that told him to rethink his plan.

The blond picked another blade of grass and looked at it. The piece waved in the breeze, pointing to where the wind was blowing. The lazy trail to town snaked off to his right and his cold eyes followed it briefly. Wolfram was facing the direction he'd just come from. For some reason, that he couldn't fathom, it made sense to him. It felt right to stare in that direction and wait.

The tromping reached his ears. They were not in unison, like soldiers. This was probably the reason, the thought, it got his attention so quickly.

"We've got quite a party going on," Yozak called cheerfully as he nudged the four men in green robes down the narrow trail. They were all tied up with rope and leather straps, linked together like a chain, which the spy salvaged from the cavern hideout. Yozak gave the last man, Boss, a little poke in the ass with Wolfram's dagger to make him step a bit more lively. And Conrad rolled his eyes at that.

"If you can wait here, we'll drop these guys off at the local jail and come back with the horses," Yozak said.

The blond gave a weak nod.

"Unless…you want me to stay…" Conrad said, his voice laced with concern.

Wolfram stared at him for a second, his eyes vague and distant as though he hadn't slept in days. Then, the blond turned to watch Yozak's retreating form down the trail. Those two—alone together. That idea appealed to him. It would certainly make Yozak happy.

"No," he mumbled quietly with a brief shake of his head.

"Alright then," his brother said with a cheerful tone that fooled no one. "See you later, Wolfram…Tra'va."

Wolfram quirked a thin smile at that and it made Conrad feel better about leaving him.

"Did you hear that, Tra'va?" Wolfram whispered, tossing a piece of grass into the wind. "Conrad remembered you, too."

Wolfram's mind wandered again.

_It's noon, maybe… _Wolfram raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked up. The bright yellow orb was hanging high and dotted with small clouds all around. Bigger ones hung heavily to the north, though. But the smaller ones, he noted, were pretty and made shadows on the ground. Wolfram blinked slowly at that and blamed his blood loss for making him slow witted and sluggish. He also wondered just what an idiot he was by taking such an interest in the trivial things around him. He needed a nap. That was for sure. But, still… Staying awake had its pleasures, too. In fact, sitting on his own felt good. There was a peace that he craved but couldn't quite reach. Without looking, he knew that Murata and Yuuri were several paces away—watching him. He took another deep breath and let it out. He was getting tired of it, being the center of attention in a bad way. And to add to the misery of his headache, he could sense that his fever would be returning soon. Tra'va was causing this one, he knew, and he was too exhausted to heal himself.

Wolfram, sitting cross-legged, raised his arms up—enjoying the stretch. Thanks to the spirit, he could feel the pull of the shrine. The strange power was stronger now that they were outside and close. He could taste it on the wind the way a tobacco smoker could taste menthol. And, if he had the choice and the strength, he would have started walking. He told himself that he would have simply stood up and trudged off—not caring about anything else except the motion of his legs. Wolfram chuckled at himself. Yes, he found that amusing. _Walking the whole way? Beat up like this? What a stupid plan._ Yes, a horse would have been better, faster. And "near" and "far" were relative—depending on whether or not you were traveling on foot or by horse.

The gentle waves of green grass before him were blocked by something black.

Narrowing his eyes at it, Wolfram realized that a black school jacket had just materialized in front of him while he was thinking.

"Lord von Bielefeld," the sage said in his typically formal and polite way. He had taken a seat on the grass directly in front of him.

"Oh…" The blond said as a sigh at that moment. He wanted to be alone again, but decided to hear what he had to say in the hopes it would be quick. "Great Sage." His words were flat, even, and fatigued.

The other double black eyed Wolfram. Even with the purpling bruise mark from being decked, bloodied and disheveled hair, and deep cuts, Wolfram still had a kind of ethereal beauty that shined through. He was so much like a younger version of Shinou…and, in many ways, _not like_ Shinou. The original king that Murata knew would never have allowed himself to look this vulnerable. There was always a wall. It was one that he'd built—brick by brick—so that his persona fed the illusion that he was indestructible. Wolfram had a wall, too, he realized. But Wolfram's wall was made up of cleverly disguised avoidance. He pushed anyone away who ventured too close. And the bratty behavior came from that source. And, until recently, the only one who had to power to get past it was Yuuri. Now, the sage wondered, could anybody get in?

"I wanted to apologize," Murata said, deciding that was the best way to start the conversation.

Wolfram turned his face away and looked at the place he knew Yuuri to be sitting. He was waiting, as expected, under one of the pine trees, observing them with a smile. Seeing Wolfram watching him back, he gave a wave. Unimpressed, the blond turned back. He placed his elbow on his right thigh and rested his head in his palm. Yes, "thick" that's what he felt. The blond wondered just how many bottles of spiced wine he'd need to knock himself out so that he'd sleep for a week. He'd welcome that. Then, he reminded himself that Murata was still talking to him.

"I've been wanting… to discuss this 'issue' with you for awhile now, but…"

The blond sighed inwardly. He understood what the sage meant, but didn't want to get into it at the moment. "There's no need."

Dull green eyes looked in to bright onyx ones.

"No, really…" His slight smirk faded. He hedged a bit, feeling self-conscious because he had the blond's full attention. "I should because I was involved in this… And I knew about Yuuri and…Kumiko." Seeing no reaction, he added lamely, "She's really quite nice, by the way."

The same medium green eyes watched him without a care.

No, Murata decided, Wolfram had not taken the bait…or he simply didn't want Yuuri anymore. Maybe all of Wolfram's shouts and pathetic cries of Yuuri's name as well as the efforts he went through to rescue him were out of loyalty or a conditioned response to the thought of losing his friend and king. _The Maou, on the other hand, might actually mean something to him._

"Apology accepted," Wolfram said mechanically. What more could he say to get this conversation over with quickly enough? He really wasn't sure.

Murata's face shifted a little with curiosity. _Accepted? Really?_ He wondered at that. Was any part of his apology actually reaching Wolfram? "I just don't think there are any devils in this situation," the sage continued. "But, you know, complicated relationships are always a part of castle life."

Wolfram sighed and folded his arms across his chest. Yes, he'd have to endure the young man in front of him a little while longer. This was The Great Sage and, like it or not, his people still revered him. Even if he had no respect for him personally, Wolfram decided to respect the title anyway. Murata was being chatty and, he supposed, wanted to do his job—parting with some "sage" advice. It was tolerable, at the very least, and didn't make his headache worse.

"Still, I know what the role of the sage is," he went on as Wolfram feigned interest. "And I should have been less of a _comrade_ to Shibuya and more of an _adviser_."

For the first time, Wolfram nodded at him. "Agreed," he said quietly, "but it's over."

"Really?" Murata said with faux cheerfulness. But that was more of a "Murata Ken" reaction than an "Original Sage" one.

"Let's just move on," Wolfram said.

"That's very mature of you," the sage replied, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

_Mature?_ Okay, that was annoying. Wolfram decided to be brutally honest with Murata. "Don't pin a halo on me. And don't expect instant forgiveness. I'm doing this because it's what would make Tra'va happy," the blond returned with cold, dull eyes. "I owe her. So, no matter how I feel about you, she still loves you…and me…" he admitted with a slight fever blush beginning to burn, "…very much."

"How is she doing?" Murata asked with some real concern in his voice. That, alone, was probably the best apology that he could ever give Wolfram, and the blond let go some of his anger and resentment with that.

The blond rubbed his bare chest with his palm, trying to sense her spirit within. What he could see in his mind's eye was her sad form, stretched out with wings limp and sprawled awkwardly with a shaking hand reaching for Murata. But her arm dropped when she read his heart and realized that Wolfram was too repulsed by the idea of touching the sage—even for her sake. Tra'va's image melted away and left behind only a warm feeling of love—for both Murata and Wolfram.

Remembering all of the times that he wanted to just be held in someone's arms, he sighed at that. "I'm sorry," Wolfram whispered under his breath with a tired expression. "I should have done what you wanted…no, _needed_. I'm no better than Yuuri, am I?"

Behind him, Wolfram could hear footfalls on the grass. He knew it was Yuuri. The double black had waited long enough for Murata to have his say and to give his apology. And, now that the sage was still in one piece and not barbecued, it seemed safe to approach. It didn't occur to him, though, that Wolfram didn't have the stamina to barbecue a Vienna sausage let alone The Great Sage.

"I have something I'd like to say, too," Yuuri mumbled humbly with his hands in his pockets. It was now his turn to say "sorry." And he hoped that Wolfram would accept it. He could also feel The Maou inside of him glowing with a kind of stern approval worthy of Gwendal.

Wolfram squinted up at him. This moment just kept getting worse and worse and worse…

_He's a mess,_ Yuuri thought sadly. _He's been beaten so badly. Just look at his face! If he lets me, I'll try to heal it._

Wolfram could see it in his eyes and believed that he could practically read his thoughts. _You can't take your eyes from me now that I'm not handsome. I don't need your pity. Thanks for nothing, Yuuri._

"Maybe, I should go for a bit," Murata suggested. If Yuuri was going to apologize, it might be easier if they were alone.

"No, that's okay. I don't mind saying 'sorry' in front of you." He shifted his body a little more in Wolfram's direction and looked into his expressionless green eyes with a bit of ache inside of him. The double black was going to apologize for Kumiko and his not-so-innocent "friendships" with the girls on Earth. He wanted to explain that it was normal to seek out girls, date, and experiment a little with his attraction to them, but that he should have been honest with his "accidental fiancé" before doing it. Yes, that's what he would say along with his desire to still be with his _best friend_—and, as for a future together beyond that, he wasn't sure. But what he was sure of was he needed Wolfram to understand and still stay by his side as always. The blond_, his blond_, was his anchor in this world.

"You see…" The double black pulled his hands from his pockets to make a gesture, like prayer, in humbly asking for forgiveness. "Wolfram, what I'm trying to say is…please understand…"

The love note fell from Yuuri's pocket and rolled onto the uneven ground next to Wolfram.

The lined notebook paper had been folded into a thick rectangle. And, even though Wolfram had no knowledge of Japanese, he had memorized the shape of the Japanese characters that spelled Yuuri's name -- "**ユー**" and " **リ**" thanks to the endless little notes that Yuuri's mother slipped into his luggage or laundry each time he returned from Earth.

Wolfram noticed that the name was written in girly handwriting in purple ink with little hearts all over it. But, due to the chaos they'd all been through, it was crumpled, too, on the lower left corner and was a bit worn.

Guessing what it was, Murata smacked his hand over his face and grimaced.

Yuuri's heart stopped the second he saw it hit the grass in a kind of slow motion. His face filled with a blood red color, eyes wide. This was unreal--a nightmare that darkened visibly from the moment Wolfram wrapped his thin, blood-stained fingers around it.

Yuuri could hear his heartbeat. This _was not_ the way he wanted to apologize, not at all. And he wouldn't blame Wolfram, this time, for yelling at him or threatening bodily harm. The blond could dive at him and throw punches. In fact, he'd prefer it. Yuuri told himself that he wouldn't fight back. He'd let Wolfram work him over and get it out of his system once and for all.

"You dropped this," Wolfram said evenly. He handed it up to him.

Yuuri took the note back. _Here it comes…_ "Wolfram…I…." he muttered, raking his fingers through his raven hair nervously.

"I'm tired," Wolfram interrupted. "And I want a nap until Conrad returns." He stretched out on the grass and closed his eyes. Wolfram laced his fingers together and placed them on his chest. Yes, he was here. But, he chose to send his thoughts to a place far away where nothing couldn't reach.

"I'm sorry…," Yuuri said, walking away.

Murata frowned at that as he followed the double black. "No," he grumbled under his breath the way he always did with Shinou, "you're sorry you got caught."

* * *

Even though Wolfram's eyes were closed, he could sense the bright sunlight. A blade of grass, split in half, waved from between a finger and a thumb. Briefly, he considered rolling onto his side and putting a bent arm over his face. That would block out enough light for him to snooze in the warm sun. But, his body felt too heavy to move and he could feel his breathing change to one with a slow and rolling rhythm.

The blond pushed all thoughts from his mind—no Yuuri, no Murata, no injuries. There was only this moment, and he could relax in the knowledge that he could slowly let go of all of his problems. Well, maybe he'd get a sunburn from sleeping in the sun. That could be painful. The thought woke him up a bit. Still, considering how the rest of him felt—which was like crap—a sunburn really couldn't compete, now could it?

The sun must have passed behind a small cloud because the brightness wasn't shining through his eyelids anymore.

Medium green eyes opened.

"It's…you…" Wolfram blinked up at The Maou.

There was a sexy, knowing grin that he was sporting as he sat upon the grass a little behind Wolfram's head. Wide, masculine hands sought out Wolfram's face and a thin green light danced from the fingertips. The healing touch spread, slowly erasing the cuts and the fist-size purpling bruise on a pale cheek.

"Yuuri…" Wolfram said with relief. He leaned into the healing aura—body arching up without meaning to. He could feel his fever breaking, and he smiled at that.

Proud of the response, The Maou's grin widened. Shoulder length black hair swept to one side with the next soft breeze. "Hm?" he said, bringing his own face closer to the blond to hear him.

"Dunno…I forgot what I was going to say," Wolfram went on, giving a sigh to the end of the sentence. "So…good…wonderful…" His body relaxed into the grass as he mumbled it groggily. The Maou's touch came straight from Heaven.

"I think," the Demon King suggested, "you were going to say 'thank you' or something like that. Right…?"

Wolfram could feel The Maou's presence behind him shift a little to the right and he turned his head slightly to see that he, too, had a blade of grass in his hand. Only, instead of splitting it down the center, The Maou was stroking it against his own pale cheek. Wolfram tried not to smile or shy his face away, but he just couldn't help it. The green blade came again, casting a silky line across his chin followed by a puff of cool air. Easily, the shimmering touch changed to one of a light, airy feel—almost cool enough to be icy. Wolfram chuckled at that, peeking a little but trying to keep his eyes closed. He squirmed.

"That feels good." Wolfram wriggled at his touch. "But it's not a healing aura anymore."

"You can tell?" The Maou said playfully and dropped his blade of grass.

Wolfram held back a grin. "Yes…" He opened one eye. The color of the aura he had seen was a misty grey. "I'd say you're using something almost like a cross between water wielding and wind wielding. I didn't know you could do that."

"I have my ways," The Maou said quietly into Wolfram's ear. He leaned in to kiss it, but Wolfram turned his head and whispered "don't" very quietly.

Eyes with black slits raked over the battered body before him. "Why?" The tone was curious, not angry. But, he wouldn't have blamed Wolfram considering how the double black had just treated him minutes ago. He would accept Wolfram's anger vented at him since he saw them both as the same person.

"I'm dirty," Wolfram said, eyes open and looking up at him with the hint of a sparkle. From Wolfram's viewpoint, The Maou face was upside down and hovering directly over him. Thanks to Yuuri, the Demon King needed a shave and had a light dusting of soil on his skin. The "bad boy's" unruly, shoulder length hair danced lazily with the blue aura that surrounded him.

The blond repositioned himself and got as comfortable as he could on his aching back—leaving the left foot straight and bringing up his right knee, bending it, with one foot flat on the grass. His arms rested at his sides, and he eyed the person hovering over him almost impishly.

"You're planning something," Wolfram said in a sing-song way, trying to figure it out.

"The question is… Can I?" The Maou whispered to him lowly. "Considering how you feel about Yuuri—about me—at the moment."

Wolfram's face slackened. "To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel—which is a first for me." It came with a shrug. "Maybe, that makes us even. I don't know."

"Hm," The Maou said and leaned in closer which, he noted, changed everything. He winked.

Wolfram's eyes spoke of amusement now. It was almost comical seeing The Maou up this close and the wrong way around. His face looked huge, wide. And the dark eyes seemed to be seeking something, flicking left and right—making a decision of some sort.

The rich, velvet voice asked, "Wolfram, right now…in this moment…you don't mind me so much...do you?"

The tug of a gentle smile on Wolfram's lips was the only answer he needed. "Then, my blond one, I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

Green eyes and black eyes were close—very close.

"Yes," Wolfram answered. It had been a long time since he was this entertained.

The Maou's lips found Wolfram's. And the blond's eyes shot open at that the very instant it happened. It was odd. His body went rigid with the sensation of his lips being stolen with no body pressing into him. They were kissing upside down with The Maou's greedy lips searching his. The Demon King's palm pressed against the side of his face with the thumb stroking it, encouraging a response.

Wolfram wasn't even sure that he could kiss upside down. But, then, with the next demanding kiss, his eyes slid shut and he simply allowed himself to go with the feeling—kissing back in a timid way that The Maou found most endearing. He hummed an approval into the blond's mouth and peeked one eye open to see the light dusting of a blush. Wolfram's fingers clinched into the grass and his body rose up to meet him when he began to pull away.

The Demon King broke the kiss and sat up, but he never took his eyes off of his blond. Gingerly, he wiped Wolfram's pink lips with his thumb.

"I've never thought of doing it like that," he said, breathless.

"Remember that line," The Maou chuckled. "You'll be saying it a lot in the future."

* * *

Wolfram approached his white horse and stroked the mane affectionately before shoving a foot in the stirrup and hoisting his leg over. The actions were smooth and automatic. He'd done it a thousand times in his life. But, this time, in doing so, he felt light headed and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. _Damn it! It's happening again…_

"Are you okay?" Conrad worried, knowing that the answer was "no" but that Wolfram would, most likely bark a "yes" at him. Instead, tired eyes and an equally tired expression answered.

"I'm fine," Wolfram said in a monotone, letting his breath out slowly.

The situation was obvious and Yuuri, now back to his normal self, gave a "What can we do?" look to Conrad who could only nod quietly in thought.

"Umm….How much time do we have left to get Tra'va to the shrine?" the sage asked, changing the subject if he could. He also eyed Wolfram to see if he was well enough to travel.

There was a pregnant pause while Wolfram searched himself for an answer. "We still have a few days...maybe…" Then, his eyes turned to the left in an almost haunted expression. "We could go now, you know…"

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, nudging his horse closer to Wolfram's steed. "I think we need to go back to the room, clean up, and get some rest. Early tomorrow, we'll make the journey to the shrine and say 'goodbye' to Trouble."

_Say 'goodbye' to her…?_ Wolfram suddenly felt sick inside. All along, some part of him understood that he'd have to deliver her to the shrine, but it always seemed so far away. Now, he'd have to go through with it. And he wondered how it would feel to be alone in his body again. He wondered if losing her would hurt. He could feel the adrenaline pumping at the thought. He was leaving her behind somewhere. …Alone… No, he couldn't think that far. He just couldn't.

"Wolfram?" Conrad repeated himself, drawing nearer.

The blond saw the sudden movement and jerked his head, being shocked back to what was going on. "Sorry…what?"

"We're going back to our room….now…"

He nodded vaguely at this big brother and the horse walked forward at a comfortable gait. But, the shifting and sometimes unpredictable lurching movements of the horse, as it avoided holes and dips in the dirt, was starting to get to Wolfram. He blinked a bit and the images before him began to merge together with colors bleeding into each other. Blackness peeked at the edges of his eyes. He forgot to breathe—his body heavy.

"Sorry for the bother," Yozak said cheerily from behind Wolfram. The blond turned to the voice and realized that there was another set of legs behind his own. A beefy arm was secure around his bare waist and the horse's reins were in a wide, callused hand. "But I'm sure you won't mind," the orange haired spy said easily, "because Trouble and I have traveled like this for many an hour."

"Humph," Wolfram responded as almost a huff with arms crossed.

"You almost fell off," he whispered into Wolfram's ear. Then, he said much louder, "It's a short ride after all..." He winked to Conrad who had a sudden look of immense relief.

Yuuri watched with an expression that no one could read. And Murata forced himself to smirk.

As they went down the trail, Yozak said quietly, "You can lean back and sleep against me if you want to. Trouble did that a lot, too."

"I know she did," he returned. Begrudgingly, the blond head tilted back a little. "She's happy right now," Wolfram said with eyes half lidded. "She likes it when you hold us." He leaned his body against the spy and took deep breaths to fight the next dizzy spell that was upon him.

"I'm glad," he said with legitimate warmth in his voice.

"So, has Trouble said anything to you?" Yozak asked. But his voice was a little louder than he intended and the others heard the question.

"How is Tra'va?" Murata chimed in. "You didn't…" and his onyx eyes drifted to Yuuri, "… have the chance to answer when I asked you earlier."

Wolfram stiffened at the question from the sage. He remembered Yuuri and the love note. What a fiasco that was. And he was sure that he'd feel something—something strong—later on once he allowed his mind to mull things over. Once he allowed himself to feel something for Yuuri again.

"She doesn't speak to me anymore," Wolfram stated flatly.

"Why? Is she mad at you?" Yozak teased a little. A good natured chuckle rumbled in Wolfram's ears. It was almost soothing. But there was a blond shake of the head "no." "She isn't strong enough."

"What?" Murata said with concern and Yozak leaned in, too. "You're kidding me," he said with a worried tone that was unfamiliar to the blond.

"Can she make it through the night?" Murata asked, now urging his horse to catch up with Wolfram's. He wanted answers.

"I think so," the blond replied without looking behind him. "She 'talks' to me in feelings mostly. If she tries really hard, I can see her. But it's not like she can control my body anymore." Yozak tightened his grip a little when he felt Wolfram sag. "She can hold own until tomorrow. At least, that's the impression she gives me."

Yuuri frowned a little, knowing it would be refused, but decided it would be honorable to offer anyway, "I can try to heal her...if she'll let me, that is…"

"It won't work," Wolfram snapped with frustration, making everyone feel uncomfortable. With a slight groan, he put a hand to his pounding head which was caused by raising his voice, and wished that it, along with everyone else, would just go away. "The Maou has healed me twice, but it did nothing for her." He looked down at himself and realized that his other hand was clutching Yozak's—the one wrapped around his side. He whispered a vague "sorry" and let go. He let his arm swing listlessly at his side.

"It's fine," Yozak murmured back.

"No…it isn't," Wolfram sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. He said quietly against the spy, "Conrad would be a much better choice in this position than me."

The horse stepped lively. The city was in view once more.

"So, that's what you think? Playing matchmaker now, are we?" There was a smile in his voice to lighten the mood.

To Yozak's surprise, slate green irises, edged in pink, turned to him. "I know the hearts of everyone around me. Give it a try."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When they got to the stairs, Wolfram flatly refused to allow anyone—including Conrad, who offered—to pick him up and carry him bridal style. The blond set his jaw and balled his hands into fists. He was a soldier. It was a simple flight of stairs. He could do this. Death glares were shot in all directions to prove his point.

Wolfram's legs moved slowly and with purpose while Conrad watched almost nervously behind a bland smile. His baby brother could be too stubborn sometimes.

Conrad noticed, and not for the first time, that Wolfram's hair was stained a brownish red on one side and his back still held light scars from the wings that pushed through the porcelain skin. Some of the cuts had healed over, but there were still bruises that were purpling on his body. He guessed that Gisela would have to visit with Wolfram a few times, once they got back, to rid his brother of the last of the marks.

The sound of feet stumbling on the wooden stairs caught his ears.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, and reached for his brother instinctively only to get a "Don't you dare touch me" heated glare.

"Wolfram, I don't think you should," Yuuri agreed quickly but was ignored flat out.

Wolfram continued on. But his legs, he had to admit, were getting heavy_. This is so stupid… But I'm not giving up._ He was determined to push himself to the limit, if need be, just to show them that he could take care of himself _by himself_.

The others followed at a shuffle, exchanging uncomfortable glances. Wolfram was slow and breathing hard. When the blond began to chuckle to himself darkly and his body careened into the railing, Yozak scooped the feisty Mazoku up into his arms without a care in the world.

"I could have made it," Wolfram growled against his neck, his eyes closed briefly.

"You could," the spy said back slyly, "but let Trouble enjoy having her 'night-time husband' close by. Okay? She won't have me for much longer."

Wolfram's face went blank at that_. Tomorrow… It's definitely going to happen tomorrow. I'll have to say 'goodbye' to her. _

Wolfram nodded and whispered, "As you say…" mimicking the spirit's submissive fashion. He knew that's what she would have said if she had the power to do so.

Yozak worried at that and held Wolfram closer as they reached the landing and Murata slipped by them to open the door with the rusty key.

* * *

Yuuri had been sitting on his neatly made bed, with covers tucked in so tightly you could bounce a quarter off of it, for the past half hour. The maids had been in while they were away—leaving them a clean, well aired room.

Yuuri's concerned, onyx eyes watched Wolfram. At the first opportunity, the blond had taken a chair next to the window. The curtains were drawn back and he could see onto the street below. But, he seemed to be looking at everything and nothing—slate green eyes stared unblinking at what was unfolding before him.

_Tra'va? Can you hear me?_

Nothing.

Silence.

He called to her again and felt a stir. In his mind's eye, he could see the outline of the flying fox as she lay sprawled out. With the same stubborn effort that Wolfram had on the stairs, she forced her naked body into a sitting position and wrapped her wings around herself. Tra'va gritted her teeth into a grin. She was proud of herself. She did it.

_You seem a little better, huh, Tra'va? _At least, he hoped she was.

She nodded tiredly. Her eyes smiled back at him.

_I don't know if you realized it or not…but those guys in the green robes...?_

Tra'va looked up, extended a hand, and shot the bird with a taloned middle finger. He raised an amused blond eyebrow at that. _Well...those morons won't be bothering us… or anyone else… anymore. _He felt a chuckle deep inside. _You are feeling a bit better, huh? … Anyway, we destroyed their pathetic little hideout… Conrad said that they were working as assassins… with those red stones. So, that little group will be seeing the inside of a jail cell for years to come._

She nodded with a smile and wrapped her wings more tightly around herself.

_So, now, we're in our room… Yozak had to give us, you and me, some help getting back. Do you remember that?_

His answer was the sweet tingle of desire. Wolfram smiled wryly and tucked a filthy strand of hair behind his ear.

_Yes, I thought that you wouldn't mind._ Then, the blond lowered his head and continued_. Even though I was determined… _He sighed at himself._ Fine, fine…I was stubborn… again…and I wanted to make it here on my own…But, even then, I didn't complain too much,…when Yozak got us up the stairs._

He got a sarcastic "oh, right" vibe. And he fought a sheepish smile. But, he wasn't sure exactly why he was doing that. Trouble could read his heart like a picture book. There was no hiding anything from her.

_I suppose…underneath it all…some part of me wanted to make it up to you… because… I'm sorry, Tra'va. Back there…when you needed to hold the sage… and I wouldn't let you. _The blond folded his arms defensively at that and narrowed his eyes out the window_. But…you must understand…that he… _Wolfram's face hardened. _I'm just really angry with him for what he did! No…for what he failed to do…_

There was a sympathetic glow coming to him. But it didn't make Wolfram feel any better.

_I just…despise the fact that he condoned it. It's not like he didn't know any better. His soul is ancient! He's supposed to have all the answers. He's supposed to do what's right. But, he didn't. From the start, I guessed that he'd almost always side with Yuuri. The sage, as 'Murata Ken' knew Yuuri first. But, still… What happened to me…and how I feel about it…is not trivial. No matter what the sage says, it's not just a matter of 'castle life.' It's __MY__ life._

Wolfram felt arms wrap around him and the soft brush of long, red fox hair.

_A part of me wants to let go of Yuuri. The reasons why are obvious. I'll never be his precious person. And a part of me wants to hold onto him so badly…that I crave it. _Wolfram chewed his lower lip, holding back the tears that begged to come._ It's selfish, though._ _I know it is._ Wolfram's face looked heartbroken and he turned more to the window. _Now, The Maou wants me… and I'm not sure about that, either. It's great when I'm with him, however…_

_He's Yuuri and… not…Yuuri?_ a voice whispered in his head.

Wolfram frowned at the voice.

_I don't think you should be talking to me. Save your strength. Come to think of it, maybe…I should stop this._

The red fox hair tickled against his face as he received another hug. The arms held him firmly in place and there seemed to be the hum of a song in his ears. It was the same song that Tra'va had been singing when they'd first set out for the shrine.

Wolfram could feel a slender body slide into his lap and rest against him. Soft lips pecked at his.

_You love me, don't you…Tra'va?_

Wolfram felt the answer almost immediately. It was warm. It was intimate, patient, and kind without demands or conditions. The feeling was total acceptance with no past or future. It lived for the _now_ and it lived only for him. Of course, he'd felt Tra'va's love for Murata, Yozak, and, not so oddly anymore, Conrad. But, Conrad was almost her father's twin incarnate. Still, with the others, the emotions had a different flavor to them—none of which caused an ounce of jealousy because he knew that her unique feelings for him suited his soul, and soothed it, more than any experience he ever had.

_Forgive them,_ Tra'va whispered_. …Because you need to._

_I thought I told you not to speak, h_e fretted, which only got him an impish glow in return.

She smirked back. He could feel it in his soul, that self-satisfied fox-smirk. _I'm a bitch. What can I say?_

* * *

With Yozak and Conrad downstairs getting food to bring back to the room, it seemed unearthly quiet where he was. The sage's glasses caught the light from the window and sparkled a little. He stood there, unnoticed, by the two other occupants in the room.

Considering his recent apology to Wolfram, and the strong feelings that were probably still under the surface, he decided to keep the double black company instead.

Murata sat next to Yuuri on the bed.

"This isn't good," the double black said, his eyes glued on Wolfram who was still seated by the window.

"Did he get dizzy again when I wasn't looking?" the sage asked, studying the blond from where he was sitting.

Yuuri frowned and said, "no" with the hint of an edge.

"Then…what?" Murata asked lowly, not wanting to draw Wolfram's attention.

The double black whispered in his ear. "Just watch his face. It keeps changing expressions. It's like he's gone mad or something. Maybe, that blow to his head did more than we thought."

Murata's eyes turned back to Wolfram for a few minutes in quiet observation. Then, he suppressed the amused face that he dearly wanted to make. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Shibuya. I believe that he's talking to Tra'va. And, if he can do that, it's a good sign. It means she's getting stronger."

Yuuri's onyx eyes widened with the realization. "Oh, that's a relief," he groaned under his breath. "I was worried there for a second."

"Just a second?" The whisper had a teasing quality to it that got him an elbow to the ribs.

Chuckling lightly, the sage patted him on the shoulder and said, "Well, 'worried' or not, you're still not off the hook for that note…you know the one…from Kumiko." Then, he thought about it. "The one you dropped _was_ from Kumiko, _right_?" His hands laced together as he spoke and he tried not to fidget. "…And not…you know…from one of the _others_?" The smile ran away from Murata's face by the end of the last sentence.

Yuuri lowered his head; his eyes hidden in the shadow of his bangs. "It was Kumiko's."

The sage continued in a low mutter. "Then it was a good thing for you, Shibuya, that your ex-fiancé decided to behave like an 'ex.' If he'd lost his temper and tried to use his magic in the state he was in…? Well, I'd hate to think of the consequences of that. To run out of magic entirely…you know?"

Yuuri didn't move even though he was still listening.

"Right now, you're lucky." And Yuuri shot him a hard, sideways glance. The sage continued. "No, really… He's just too ill to deal with you on top of everything else…including the stress from his injuries." Then, he pushed his glasses up a little higher on his nose with the tip of a finger. "So, let's just try to keep von Bielefeld in one piece until we can drop Tra'va off at the shrine tomorrow."

Yuuri thought he saw Murata hedge a bit at the last sentence. Onyx eyes locked with onyx. The sage shrugged sheepishly at his own wording and clarified. "Well, actually, it's a bit more complicated than just letting her go off on her own merry way. I've read about spirits transferring from host to host…or host to holy object. If she's this weak, then… it may take more time than anticipated." Murata glanced back to Wolfram's profile. _Or, it may not happen at all. In which case, both Tra'va and __von Bielefeld__ won't make it. Their bond is that strong. If one dies, both die. _

* * *

"I'm taking a bath," Wolfram said, doing his best to run his fingers through filthy, blood and dirt clotted hair.

As much as it annoyed the ex-prince, he'd have to ask for a change of clothes from someone around him. Well, either that or wear a sheet from the bed for the rest of the trip. Nonetheless, there was no way he'd put these rags back on a second time. The trousers that he was wearing had rips and tears in them up to the thigh. And he didn't even want to think of washing his black g-string only to have the silly thing drip dry in the bath or outside the window all night long. He'd just toss everything he was wearing in the trash.

Conrad handed Wolfram a small wooden bucket that had a bottle of shampoo, a bar sandalwood soap, a razor, a bottle of lotion, and a thin, blue washcloth inside. "Use this," he said throwing a folded white bath towel on top, "…only I want you to take a shower, not a bath." A pair of maroon pajamas and some white boxers from the sage found their way on top of the white towel. Murata grinned with a shrug, but it went unnoticed as confused green eyes locked on Conrad.

"Shower?"

Wolfram glanced down at the pile he was holding and then back to Conrad. "I can take a _bath_ if I want to," he complained in almost a low growl. He was in his eighties. He did not need an older brother to tell him when he could and couldn't take a bath.

"It's really better to take a shower," Yozak chimed in.

"Of course," Wolfram grumbled, "you'd take his side." He motioned his head at his brother.

Yozak shrugged. "It's just that if you pass out in the bath, you could drown. The shower is really a better choice for now."

"Unless you want me or Shibuya to join you," Murata chirped. It went beyond teasing. He looked only too eager to join him.

_That perv,_ Wolfram thought to himself and heard a girlish giggle inside his head. _And you're a perv, too, Tra'va, if you think I'm going to go for that._

_Spoil sport, _came a whisper.

The blond wasn't sure how Tra'va managed it, but she flashed an image of deep kissing Murata in his head—complete with every touch, embrace, and sensation. _Everything_, right down to the still minty taste from the toothpaste the sage had brushed with. _What fun we had… Remember? _was whispered at him.

"Humph," the blond came back with. But, it was aimed at Tra'va. Wolfram's cute, pink lips squished together as though he'd been sucking a lemon. He clutched the wooden bucked a bit tighter. "I'll take a shower, then," he relented. "But I want to be ON MY OWN!" He met the eyes of everyone in the room with a pouty blush on his face.

Then, as he reached for the knob, he heard Conrad add, "Just leave the bathroom door open ajar."

"Eh?" Wolfram said, turning back with a hand on his hip.

"Just in case we need to come in and help your naked body off the floor." Yozak finished his words with a brief "goodbye" wave.

Wolfram ignored the new image in his head. _Curse you, Tra'va._

He glared at his brother. "But, I'll freeze with the door open!"

Conrad laughed easily. That sounded like the baby brother that he was used to.

Wolfram's dull green eyes still had not left him. They were wide. "And anyone could just walk in!" Even with one hand holding the bucket, Wolfram managed to continue his protests with a variety of ridiculous, overly exaggerated hand gestures to emphasize his point.

"I'll guard the door," Conrad said soothingly.

"And I'll join him," Yuuri added.

That got an unreadable expression from Wolfram. It was cold and unflinching. But, beyond that, the look was an enigma to the double black. And, some part of Yuuri felt hurt at that. He was no longer able to tell what the blond was feeling from just looking at him. Worse yet, the blond wasn't willing to say.

"I give up."

With shoulders rounded slightly, Wolfram walked through the door. He really needed to get a break from them.

Maybe the shower would help.

* * *

A pair of ragged, almost shredded, trousers smacked into the wall and fell down into the trashcan below. It was quickly followed by a thong that had been stretched and released like a slingshot.

Wolfram eyed the tub longingly. It was small but very deep. And he loved the idea of just sinking up to his shoulders and letting all of his problems soak away in the heat. Sadly, his brother would have none of that. But, he understood why and felt Tra'va agreeing with the group. So, he was out voted.

A bruised hand reached out. The blond turned on the shower, folded his arms against the shower wall, and rested his head against his arms. He let the warm water from the shower head cascade down to his shoulders and back. It felt good. Briefly, he convinced himself that all he had to do was stay in the shower for the rest of his life. It would be great until his hands and feet got all pruney.

Just outside the door, Wolfram could hear the low rumbling of two voices. True to their word, Conrad and Yuuri were waiting for him. But, at the moment, it felt like they were sentries instead of companions. And, now that Wolfram really thought about it, he still couldn't peg Yuuri as a companion. He didn't know what he was anymore.

Wolfram leaned his head further into his arms. The water splashed around his feet and tickled a little. Tickling reminded the blond of his time with The Maou and that sneaky, but most pleasurable, blade of grass. The blond was certain that The Maou knew he was in here, right now, naked and with the warm water running. He quirked a smile at that. Maybe it was a good thing that Conrad was outside the door after all. Someone had to guard his honor while he was in the shower. Oh, that thought amused him. He'd been alone with Yuuri countless times and nothing ever happened between them. And The Maou had always been the perfect gentleman. But, a devious, evil little part of him tore at his soul, demanding that special "maou" attention. And, it would be fun to see that wild black hair and those passionate eyes so close again. But, then, his smile faded.

_Let's face facts… No matter how much time I spend with The Maou, he will, eventually, leave, and I'll wind up with Yuuri. And, if Yuuri doesn't want me…he'll be disgusted by what he finds. Could I live with half of a lover? What kind of life would that really be?_

A sigh echoed.

Yuuri pushed open the door a tad more and peeked in—just to make sure that Wolfram was taking his shower. Yuuri heard the splashing and told himself that he was sure that the blond was enjoying it. But, once Yuuri's eyes were able to look past the clouds of steam and the transparent shower curtain, he noticed the lithe, blond figure leaning, with arms folded, against the shower stall. The angelic face was hidden. The water pushed his hair back in flowing waves. Then, it moved down the shoulders and off of his back. The porcelain skin was bruising up again on his lower back and the deep gashes were little more than pinkish scratches crusted over with scabs.

The double black could hear Wolfram saying quietly to Tra'va, "Why did The Maou bring me back…only to live like this?" He straightened up, bowed his head into the spray, and ran his fingers stiffly through his matted hair. "But…I'll endure it…as always…"

* * *

Wolfram approached the bed closest to the window. As he did so, he passed Murata and said a quiet "thank you for the clothes" without making eye contact. Wolfram got a happy glow from Tra'va for the manners. And, in his head, the blond gave the spirit a quick and very stern reminder that "manners" were not her strong suit. The elfin chuckle that returned to him made Wolfram lighten up a little.

The sun was beginning to set—which was not Wolfram's usual bedtime. Quite often, he would stay awake until the wee hours of the morning. This was especially true if he decided to wait up for Yuuri. But, right now, Wolfram was exhausted. And he didn't particularly care about the time.

Wolfram curled cutely, very much like a kitten, on top of the covers. The sage's maroon pajamas fit him to a "T" and made his bright blond hair look radiant. It did not go unnoticed by the others in the room. But Yuuri was bothered by two things. The first was the fact that the blond was wearing "boy sleepwear," instead of the usual silly nightgown that made Wolfram look ridiculous—and terribly, terribly human. _…And kind of sexy, _he thought. Tra'va wearing just the boxers didn't have the same kind of gut reaction for him that the nightie did. The other thing that disturbed him was what he heard Wolfram say in the shower. _I really have hurt Wolfram_, he thought. _And I'm not sure how much more he can take._

Wolfram, feeling a bit cool, sat up and pulled all of the bed covers back. He snuggled in and turned on his side, facing the window. He stared out, unblinking once more. Only, this time, Tra'va had decided to get some sleep, too. Some part of her didn't feel quite right. Despite her best efforts, she wasn't able to hide that fact from Wolfram anymore. But, when he asked her about it, she simply projected a feeling of drowsiness, and he got the hint.

The others munched quietly on the bread, cheese, and fruit that Wolfram flatly refused the moment he returned from his shower. From time to time, eyes gently drifted in Wolfram's direction. They mumbled about other things and discussed packing tonight to be ready for their journey tomorrow. But, all in all, the concern was still there and hung heavily in the air.

When it got late enough Yuuri and Murata took the bed in the middle. Conrad took the far bed. But, around 3 AM, he would switch with Yozak and would be guarding the door.

When Yuuri and Murata agreed to share the bed, both glanced at the blond to see if there would be any words of protest, of jealousy followed by the word "cheater." Wolfram, his eyes closed now, slept quietly with his arms wrapped around himself. But it wasn't a deep sleep, Yuuri knew, because the blond stayed on one side of the bed without moving.

* * *

Murata started snoring first. Yuuri's bent arms were folded behind his head. They propped him up higher off the pillow. He turned his head slightly to the left and could see the sage's profile as only a faint outline in the darkness. Beyond him was Conrad. To his knowledge, Conrad never snored. The man was a quiet sleeper who liked to shove the covers roughly around his neck and shoulders when he settled in. Maybe he felt cold in the night. Yuuri could never quite tell.

The double black stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. He was feeling too much…and too little. When he'd left this very room to find Wolfram and Yozak, he had no idea that he'd end up with an injured and bleeding Wolfram in his arms. Then, his memory faded as The Maou shoved him aside and took over. After that came the apology to Wolfram. He cringed at the thought as he replayed that scene in his mind over and over. Yes, even now, he still had the note from Kumiko. Yuuri had to admit to himself that he kept it because it was fun to read it and re-read it. The note was special. It was the kind of attention that he thought he'd always wanted from a girl. And, while it wasn't exactly his first love note in the last eight months, it was, most certainly, the most "forward" or "bold"—at least, from a Japanese viewpoint. And Kumiko had waist-length, shiny black hair that fell like a black curtain. Her eyes were so brown that they were almost black. And her nose wrinkled just before he'd kiss her by the last bookcase in the public library. Yes, making out was always fun with her. She'd play the prude at first, with minor protests. But, quickly enough, she was more than willing to take over and pin him down. _It was cute_, he thought, remembering her flushed face.

Yuuri tugged at his own raven hair, running his fingers through the knots in it. Yes, he'd gotten a bit more confidence from being king and, back on Earth, that confidence was really paying off. In fact, it was more than good. It was desirable in his culture when mixed with something that appeared to be humility. He no longer approached girls sheepishly. He was self-assured and friendly—picking up a book for one girl when she dropped it in the hall. Less was more when it came to flirting, he realized. And when he smiled, he made direct eye contact for just a second longer than necessary. It was enough to make girls turn away, hands covering their blushing cheeks, but then turn right back with a slight grin to see if he was still looking.

Making them do that was—fun.

Yuuri turned his head and glanced at Wolfram. His smirk faded. Now, it wasn't fun. And he had no idea where he stood with Wolfram. The double black knew what The Maou had planned. And he knew that the blond in the bed next to him could be very stubborn, indeed, when he chose to disagree. However, Yuuri also understood that Wolfram had a kind of immediate submission to whatever The Maou wanted. He'd grown up with the concept of a king ruling the land and the people who belonged to it. And while the blond once had a begrudging toleration (bordering on respect) for "The Great Sage," Wolfram had an overpowering desire to be everything he could to "The Maou." Pleasing him was the priority.

Wolfram moaned a little and his right hand found its way to his left shoulder.

Yuuri watched him quietly, not moving.

A blond head was thrown back into the pillow and the body arched upwards. In seconds, Wolfram was awake. The covers were thrown off and he was sitting upright in the bed hissing at the pain in his shoulder. It was slowly creeping up, Yuuri could see, by the intense rubbing that Wolfram was giving it.

"Damn," Wolfram muttered, his head lowered as he squeezed the muscles in the hopes that they'd stop. They didn't, though. Instead, his shoulder began to ache and the pain was spreading into his chest. "Just stop," he gritted out.

It was a terrible way to wake up. And, although he'd been awakened by pain many times in his life as a soldier, waking to an overwhelming cramping feeling made him pathetic, helpless. Even now, he had to stay quiet or he'd wake everyone else in the room. If he did, he'd be the center of attention, again, in a bad way. "Wolfram the Weak" was not what he wanted to be—ever. He'd embarrassed himself enough from "the stairs" incident.

The blond's breathing was short, choppy. He just had to ride out the pain and to get his body to stop doing this.

Flump.

Wolfram's head shot up.

"What the…?"

From behind him, warm hands with stubby fingernails worked their way into the muscles of Wolfram's left arm. Before closing his eyes with relief, he noticed that there was another pair of legs behind his own—sitting behind him in much the same way he noticed Yozak sitting behind him on the horse earlier.

Wolfram took a pained, trembling breath as the hands worked down the arm and, then, back up it to his neck. The blond dug his fingers into his thighs, knuckles white. "Hurts," Wolfram said, not sure if he was speaking to himself or not.

Wisps of raven hair were in Wolfram's peripheral vision. _Black…hair…_

Green eyes looked to the bed to his right. Based on the shape of the body, it seemed that the sage was still there, sleeping quietly. In the bed next to it, Conrad was still there with the blankets bunched around his neck.

The fingers on Wolfram's back moved down. They were rougher, almost demanding, almost—painful.

Wolfram could smell the scent of the black hair when it caressed his cheek as the body leaned against him. He knew that it was Yuuri.

_No, not Yuuri,_ the blond thought. _It's The Maou. Whenever I'm in pain, The Maou comes to me._

Wolfram smiled a little to himself, sensing a particularly hard muscle softening_. I don't know how he knew I was hurting, but this feels great._ He allowed his whole body to relax into the feeling. Hands found Wolfram's shoulders and began to dig in, then moving across to the chest. The blond held back a moan of pleasure.

_He's done so much for me. One good turn deserves another…_

Wolfram twisted, doing an 'about face' in the bed. He quickly wrapped his legs around the waist of the figure and pulled the warm body into an embrace by the shoulders.

Flustered, the body stiffened against him, and Wolfram dipped his fingers into black, shiny hair. He closed his green eyes briefly at the silky touch.

"Maou, I'm sorry. Did I surprise you?" Wolfram whispered in a sexy tone. He stroked the black hair again. "Thank you for doing that. I was hurting…badly. But I'm not very good at admitting such things, though…" It was followed by a gentle, feather light kiss against the neck. "But, to you…I can…because you desire me." The blond, deciding to be a bit bolder, gently sunk his teeth in and sucked a little at the skin. Almost immediately, he heard a sharp intake of breath. The blond smirked inwardly at that.

Wolfram leaned his warm cheek against the wet spot he'd just made. He whispered, "I know you want me, Maou. You've said so over and over." Wolfram wrapped his arms tighter around the shoulders, pressing their chests together, and felt arms wrapping around his waist. "And I've thought about it. The things you've said to me… I really have considered it."

Wolfram could feel tears coming to him. He was supposed to be glad to say these things to The Maou. He really was. But some part of him wanted to cry, too. The tears. He tried to hold them but they were brimming over. With a subtle gesture, he rubbed one away with the heel of his hand.

"When we return to the castle, I'll move back into my old room. And, behind closed doors, I'll be anything that you want. I'll be your 'inamorato,' 'beloved,' or whatever pet name you choose for me next." He stroked the dark hair again, slowly—down to the ends, rubbing his fingers and thumb together. "And we'll let Yuuri have his life and be happy." In a cub-ish fashion, Wolfram rubbed his golden locks into black ones. "I'm just not what he needs. I know that now. So, I have to give up on him."

Wolfram, even in the dark, could only make out the general shape of a face. He placed both palms on either side and, finding the mouth, kissed the lips shyly—which was his way. "Since you want me so badly, I'll be anything you want…behind closed doors…quietly." He kissed the lips again.

"But, Maou, promise me this…"

Wolfram wrapped his arms tightly around the shoulders. "…Promise me…that you'll never slap me…" He pressed his face against the warm neck and felt the tears coming to him, a warm rill between them both. "And promise that you'll never tell me…you love me…even though you've promised to teach me what love is…" Wolfram closed his eyes tightly, pearl-like tears coming down. He could say the rest. He knew he could. "And, if you can do that, I'll gratefully accept you as my lover...whenever you want."

Warm hands clutched Wolfram's back, fingers digging into the pajama top.

"I'll make you happy, Maou," the blond whispered against his lips followed by a deep kiss that he thought The Maou would prefer. He leaned back and added, "You'll see…very happy. I know I'm what you want most…but, for the life of me, I can't understand why…"

In the darkness, the strong form crushed the blond tightly against him. _But, I'm not The Maou!_

Yuuri's eyes were wide, unblinking, as he rubbed soothing circles against Wolfram's back. The blond was sobbing a little, his head resting on the double black's shoulder.

The double black kicked himself. He was the only one who could ever make Wolfram cry. And he'd been doing it a lot.

_For The Maou…for me…Wolfram is willing to give up so much. …Love… …Marriage… …A family of his own…with honor. I know he wants those things—badly. He's willing to live alone and wait for The Maou to come to him…when he feels like it… While I move on with my life…_

Yuuri shook his head angrily at that, his jaw set. This was worse than anything The Maou had planned.

_It's not a relationship. It's an affair…_

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

It was pitch black with a few snores, mostly from the sage, in the background. Wolfram was still in the bed with the double black—legs wrapped around Yuuri's waist and arms resting on his shoulders, slender fingers laced together behind a warm neck. Wolfram's soft sobs had disappeared five minutes ago. But he continued to hold on with his cheek resting lightly against Yuuri's. It was a comfort.

"I'm glad you agree, Maou," Wolfram whispered to him. "It's a relief, actually…" His body relaxed a little and Yuuri turned to look at him. The room was dark. He didn't know why he did it. It just seemed natural to want to look at him. Instead of a silhouette catching his eye, it was his nose that brought his attention to something—light perfume. The scent, which was a mixture of shampoo, sandalwood soap, and a soft, male musk, made him want to hold onto Wolfram even more.

Wolfram could feel wide palms caressing his back. The blond smiled, casting his mind back to another time when he felt wanted, desired. "I had only one other lover in my life. She'd make promises to me, many of them—like this—alone in the dark, but they never really happened in the cold light of dawn." He shrugged a little awkwardly at the end, as though it had been his fault. Maybe, it was.

Yuuri's eyes widened. Was this how lovers spoke to each other? Did they share their histories? When he thought of "lovers," the only thing that came to mind was sex: bring on the hearts and flowers, grind into each other, pant a lot, and take a bath afterwards. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

"She promised a lot…and pursued me…until I accepted her feelings…"

Yuuri bit the inside of his cheek. He had to stop himself from saying something—and revealing that he was, indeed, himself and not The Maou. Some part of him kept wondering if The Maou would come out and spoil everything. Another part knew that Wolfram would be crushed beyond all hope, feeling duped, if he knew the truth—that he was confessing all of this to Yuuri. Now, unlike the times when The Maou took over, he would remember every word. But, somewhere inside of him, the double black could tell that The Maou was listening, and he was giving him a chance to make a decision about their future—one with the blond and one without it. Wolfram, nevertheless, had his own plan in mind. But it was too horrible for Yuuri to accept. So, as usual, he chose to ignore it.

He tucked a blond head under his chin. Yuuri's mouth was a thin line now. He had to admit to himself that it was more than just The Maou or even the fact that the three of them wanted different things. He had expected Wolfram to have always been alone. At least, that was the impression he got from Wolfram's reputation as an immature, loud-mouthed brat. But, reflecting on it now, it seemed ridiculous to assume that someone as beautiful as Wolfram would be without a lover. Even now, in this battered and beaten form, nobles and commoners alike would probably crawl over each other to be with him.

"She was like that…" he mused, his dull, green eyes turning to the past. "Of course, we buried Tasha two days after the humans raided her cousin's castle, chased her down…stabbing her with swords all the way… They killed her in the garden. Though, the humans didn't want it to be a quick death because they thought a woman would be easy prey. They were wrong about her…so very…very…wrong…" He tried not to sigh because it had been over and done with long ago. He told himself that it didn't hurt anymore. He didn't know at the time. Nobody did. The bold attack was a total surprise and shocked all of Shin Makoku. But, sometimes, in the inky-blue early summer mornings, Wolfram could almost hear her calling his name in that shrill voice—nagging him to go to the farmer's market with her, to go shopping for vegetables. She'd promise to buy something that he would be willing to eat for dinner, and she'd promise that wrapping his arm around her waist along the way wouldn't get him anywhere, no lovemaking for him—not at all. With an unenthusiastic shrug, he'd go along because being with her kept the suitors at bay, and because it was better than being alone. _Plus,_ Wolfram remembered with a sad smile, _Tasha's promises never panned out. She'd just make new ones to replace the ones she'd easily broken. But, a beautiful girl can do that… And we never really forget our 'first,' do we?_

"Even knowing that it was hopeless, she didn't go down without a fight." His voice had a thread of pride in it when he said the words. "She kept her honor as a von Dauer, fought to the last drop of her blood, and took three of them with her to the afterlife—thanks to her earth wielding."

_This happened to the person Wolfram was with?_ Yuuri didn't know what to think. In all the years they'd been together, Wolfram never spoke of his past—especially one like this. And the way Tasha died, while Wolfram respected it, sounded absolutely horrific.

"…Of course, all of that happened four years before Yuuri came…before _you came_…to us, Maou." Pale fingers stroked Yuuri's cheek, almost worshipping the face. The skin was smooth, flawless, soft… "Forgive me," Wolfram said in a gentle tone, caressing the neck and the shoulder down. "I've been alone for so long, I've almost forgotten what it's like to hold someone this way."

He found Yuuri's hand and clutched it. "You know…" the blond said quietly, "after all of that, and with Tasha gone…Mother didn't wait long to 'encourage' me to see other people…in that flirty way. You know how she is… When I tried to ignore it, she began to tease me—saying that I was what 'all of the handsome men wanted.' The truth is, I think Mother believed that I could never replace Tasha in my heart. So, instead, I should just pursue the other gender. And it wasn't like some of them didn't notice me from the start." Wolfram chuckled a little at that. It was so stupid now that he said it out loud. "The truth is, I never had an interest in any man—in anyone—until Yuuri took over as king. And, even then, it _was not_ love at first sight." Wolfram rested his head against Yuuri's shoulder. The double black could feel his breath in light puffs. "I'm not very trusting, I suppose…" That admission was slightly embarrassing no matter how honest it was. Hiding a little, he smiled wryly into Yuui's warm neck and then pressed his lips there. "I remember overhearing Gwendal once talking to Conrad about me. He said that I 'trusted rarely and never completely.' And, maybe, that is true…"

Yuuri could feel the blond shift against him and a soft kiss tickled behind his ear. He closed his eyes, drinking the sensation in.

"So, I apologize for the times you've told me that you've wanted me…but I was not…" His voice trailed away when the sage snorted a bit in his sleep, woke up a little, flopped down and pulled the blanket over his head. The blond wanted to laugh at that. Murata now seemed to be a mummy—all wrapped up in the bed covers.

"But, I was not…" He cocked his head at the shadowy figure before him. "…Maybe, I'm _still_ not…" he said almost to himself. Wolfram took the sharp edge of the double black's chin and turned the face completely toward him. "I know that you've said you want me…and I am yours… But, please, think about it again," Wolfram urged quietly. Even without seeing the details of his face, the blond could tell it was unmoving in his hand. And the stare made him a little nervous. He let go and lowered his head. "Are you certain you still desire someone as imperfect…as _guarded_ on the inside… as I am? You could still walk away…and be free of me. It's an offer I never gave Yuuri."

A hand touched the blond's chin, tilting the face up. Their lips drew nearer. "I'm 'Little Lord Brat' and I have a temper." The tone was sad, but also rich, sensuous. Wolfram said, "I could give you passion to match your own…or make your life a living Hell. Don't let this pretty blond thing you brought back from the edge of death fool you…_force you_ …to be by his side."

Wolfram waited a beat to see if the Maou would leave him. He half expected him to. But that was his nature now that his soul had been chipped and splintered, and he'd just given The Demon King a way out of this mess by making himself sound unappealing…by repeating the things that others were always saying about him.

Wolfram could almost see eyes shining. _Tears?_ Never. This was the king, the monarch… of Shin Makoku. It was a mistake…a trick of shadows, of the dark.

The soft lips were there, hovering before him. Wolfram bridged the small gap and gave a gentle kiss but then reminded himself that a new lover would probably hunger for something more, something passionate. He could certainly comply with that. In the next second, Wolfram gently bit down on Yuuri's lower lip—which got him a very pleasurable gasp—followed by a heated kiss that melted the double black to the core. Even when trying to be quiet, Wolfram could make some delicious sounds. And the blond felt, with a touch of pride, the strong form in his arms kissing him in return with a hum of pleasure.

* * *

The make out was fun, but not nearly long enough. Still, the blond was certain that he pleased The Maou with his performance—especially when the king grabbed a fist-full of blond hair, tilted the head to the side, and ravaged the neck. Wolfram made a mental note that The Maou liked it when he took his open palm, pressed it to his lips, and kissed openly with a flick of the tongue. It was just a hunch that he'd have sensitive palms—most water wielders did.

Before things got out of hand, though, Wolfram could feel The Maou placing a finger against his lips with a low "Shush." Wolfram decided that he was right, of course. They weren't alone, after all. And he would be _dead_, mortified beyond all recognition, should his older brother or the sage catch him at this.

Wolfram was back to resting his cheek on Yuuri's shoulder and he was half dozing now. Yuuri could just imagine the cute image of the blond snoozing against him with pinkish well-kissed lips open slightly. And the little snorts told him that the blond was well on his way to the usual "kick boxing" kind of sleep that the Mazoku was famous for.

_I can't believe I'm doing this,_ Yuuri thought while stroking blond hair. _Worse yet, I'm content._

"Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered.

"Hm?" The blond groaned back sleepily. He hugged his maou like a teddy bear. He would not let this dream embrace leave him so easily. Who knew when he'd get The Maou back?

The double black's hand pulled the rest of the covers down a little.

"Lie down," he ordered in a harsh whisper.

Wolfram unwrapped his legs from around Yuuri's waist and crawled to the second pillow. "Of course, Maou," he said with a yawn coming to him. "Sleep next to me?"

"Not tonight."

"I understand. Just let me know should you need anything." The blond yawned again, but managed to cover it with his right hand. "You're always welcome in my…I mean 'our'… bed at the castle."

Inside of Yuuri, he could feel The Maou stir a little. He seemed pleased but not entirely satisfied, almost suspicious of Yuuri. Yuuri shook his head at that and started to move away when a hand trapped his, holding it tightly. It caught him off guard.

"W-Wolfram?" Yuuri tried to say it in a deeper tone to match The Maou.

"I was just thinking…" he began hesitantly, trying not to make his new lover angry.

"Well…?"

"I think… tomorrow could be difficult for Yuuri…if something goes wrong at the shrine." The words were still tired, but it seemed that the blond was awake enough to say what was on his mind. He rubbed his eye sleepily. "Please don't be angry with me for saying that. No disrespect intended."

He stroked Yuuri's hand softly with his thumb.

The double black shook his head at Wolfram's words. Absolutely nothing was going to go wrong at the shrine. Tra'va was leaving for good, and he'd be overjoyed with that.

"Keep Yuuri company, okay?" Wolfram asked kindly, pulling the covers around himself with his other hand. "If the worst happens, he'll probably miss me a little…but not the same way that I missed Tasha."

_Not the same way as a lover…_

The double black felt a sincere squeeze of his hand. "I'm one of your soldiers. And it's a comfort to know that I will probably die before you, Maou. So, I'll never know a future without you in it." Then, just as quickly, the hand was released. He murmured, "I couldn't live through that a second time."

Yuuri crawled into his own bed and flung the edge of the covers onto himself. What Wolfram just said was painful. And it was just too much to think about right now. Instead, he would focus on the next few hours. He told himself that they were going home—all of them—to Blood Pledge Castle. He'd do everything in his power to make it happen. Following that, he had plans for a new project. Yuuri wanted to work on something—together—that Wolfram claimed he wasn't good at—trust.

The double black turned to watch Wolfram snoozing in the bed next to him.

A part of him felt lonely and wanted the blond in his arms; to take Wolfram up on that offer to sleep next to each other. They'd done it so many times over the years. But, that offer was given to The Maou, not him.

The silhouette turned and flopped—a pale hand draped over the edge of the bed. Yuuri reached out and took hold. Instinctively, the thin fingers wrapped around his.

"M-Maou…" A sleepy sigh followed it up with a soft snore.

Yuuri let go, feeling a little heart sore at it.

Then, Yuuri tugged at the "sage is-still-wrapped-up-tight-as-a-mummy" blankets and fought for his share of them because a small corner just wasn't enough. But, pull as he might, he knew that it was a lost cause.

Once again, Yuuri couldn't sleep. And, once again, it was his own fault.

* * *

"I feel sick," Wolfram admitted reluctantly. "It's not like being onboard a ship…in open waters… It's worse." He was lying back in the bed with his right arm bent, shielding his eyes. Maybe, if he pretended to be seasick, he might actually feel _better_ than what he was right at the moment.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, approaching the bed without his trademark smile. He sat on the edge, as close as possible to his little brother. In a way, it felt like the old days when Wolfram was very young and still depended on him for everything. "Then, tell me where it hurts. Is it a stomach ache? You didn't eat anything last night, remember?" A large, gentle hand stroked back strands of blond hair.

_Boy, that sounded childish and condescending! _Wolfram's mouth pruned up at the words. And he refused to answer.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Both Murata and Yuuri sweat dropped at the narrow looks that Conrad was giving Wolfram. And, when Yuuri really thought about it, Conrad could be quite scary when there was something he needed to know and he was determined to hear about it _right now_.

"Look at me," Conrad said in a deeper tone. "Explain." He leaned in with serious brown eyes.

Yozak suddenly decided to watch a wolf spider scuttle across the ceiling.

"As I said, I feel sick…but… It's not just that," the blond answered distractedly. Tra'va had been whispering to him in his head while Conrad was talking. Try as he might, he just couldn't have two conversations at once.

"What, then?" Yuuri said, joining in.

Wolfram removed his arm long enough to give Yuuri a tired glare and, with a slight moan, flopped the arm over his eyes again to block out the light.

"_Wolfram_?" Conrad said in a tone that edged on anger.

The blond opened his mouth and then shut it again. He shook his head no. "I'm not a wimp. I can handle this."

"We never said you couldn't," Yuuuri countered. "So, tell us."

The blond huffed a little with annoyance, but decided to give the laundry list of symptoms—if only to get them off his back. "Last night, I got muscle cramps. Now, I don't feel very strong…like it takes effort to move. Dizzy. My stomach's upset." Wolfram had to stop there for a second. Just talking about his nausea made him want to dry heave.

"You could be pregnant," the sage joked, buttoning down the white shirt he was changing into before this conversation started.

"Sure I am," Wolfram shot back with venom, "and you're the father. Don't you remember that night of passion you showed me?" He moved the arm from his glassy eyes and stared at Murata evenly. But then his face broke into a cruel grin. "Sage or not, you do realize what Gwendal is going to do to you for knocking me up? Right?" He imagined various tortures in his head that involved whips, chains, and the odd turnip.

_Wait! Did Trouble…and Murata find time to actually…?_ Yuuri gave a worried glance to his godfather. "Men in this world can't have…babies…can they?"

Wolfram's retort was a snort.

Yozak's eyes bulged at Yuuri.

Conrad laughed openly, letting go of the frustration that he was feeling for Wolfram. He shook his head "no." But a brotherly part of him decided to remember this and to have a quiet word with Günter about making Yuuri take "Mazoku Sex Ed 101" studies in the next few weeks. It would be quite embarrassing if the kingdom found out that Yuuri entertained the thought, if even for one second, that men could conceive and expel an infant from some sort of unnamed orifice. But, still, the expression on Yuuri's face was priceless.

Murata grinned widely and nervously. "If he feels well enough to joke with me…"

"And I'm too warm…almost burning," Wolfram interrupted. "On the inside, I mean. I'm uncomfortable. And that's saying a lot coming from a fire wielder." Wolfram lifted a hand. "I feel really warm…from here…to here…" Wolfram ran his fingers down the buttons on the center of his pajama top.

_No!_ Losing all mirth, Yozak quickly sidestepped Yuuri and stood at the foot of the bed. His face drained of color. "Did you just say that you're 'burning…inside'?"

He got a nod.

The orange haired man could feel his heart picking up speed, and he had a flash of memory—going back to what Tra'va had told him when she handed him the dagger. His worried sky blue eyes fell on Conrad. Yes, they had discussed what to do if Wolfram should start showing signs like this. Yozak saw the pain in Conrad's eyes and bit down on his lower lip.

The sage, sensing something between them said, "von Bielefeld, I'm going to do something that will really annoy you. For your sake, tolerate it…and don't set me on fire."

Dull green eyes blinked up at him innocently.

Before he knew it, Wolfram found the buttons on his pajama top unfastened and pushed back—exposing his bare chest to the cool air. Having everyone gawk at him for a second made him want to squirm under their stares. Unceremoniously, the sage had his hands pressed against Wolfram's sternum with a very serious expression.

"He's hot," Murata said.

Wolfram lifted his head up to see what was going on only to have the sage place a hand over his face and push his whole head back down onto the pillow. The blond made a cute little "ufff" sound.

_Hot?_ Yuuri'd heard that line before when topless Tra'va had been smooching with the sage. He folded his arms. "Stop being pervy. Joke time's over," Yuuri grumbled and was half inclined to shove Murata away from Wolfram.

The sage's mouth formed a deeper frown. "That's not it, Shibuya. I'm saying that his skin is warm…really, really warm." He glanced at Yuuri with annoyance. _Strike up another one for Captain Clueless. I guess, I'll have to demonstrate._ "He's like a furnace." The sage took Yuuri's hand in his and pressed the open palm against Wolfram's skin. The blond blushed at the wonderfully cool sensations, and turned his face away. He told himself that the only reason why he'd allow Yuuri's hand on him was because The Maou was inside Yuuri—somewhere.

Searching, the double black moved his hand all over Wolfram's chest, making him blush even deeper. Murata did it, too. And the blond felt both nauseous and, oddly, a little turned on—not that he would have ever admitted it. Tra'va, still weak, was clearly enjoying the attention even though she shared the others' concerns.

"It just seems to be this area…here…" Murata said, feeling the heat radiate, and then he leaned over Wolfram's face. "His face is bright pink, too."

"That can't be good," Yuuri worried, off to the side. "Maybe, I should try to heal him again."

"Do you think it would work?" Conrad asked.

"And if it doesn't…?" Murata wondered out loud. It was insensitive, he knew, but he had to explore every possibility.

"Hold still, Wolfram." Yuuri extended a hand over Wolfram's sternum and concentrated. A few seconds ticked by and then a green glow came to his hand. He closed his eyes in concentration and could feel The Maou taking over his hand and channeling power trough it.

The blond shifted in the bed. "Don't bother," Wolfram grumbled. "It's just a waste. Nothing's happening." Then, his gaze drifted to Yozak. The spy almost flinched at it but, instead, smoothed out his face.

"We could get some ice," Yozak suggested, now feeling restless as well as useless. "In fact, I'll go get some." He got a quick nod from Conrad. Then, thankfully, he left the room in search of it—that "third wheel" vibe getting the better of him. And he still had Wolfram's dagger in his possession. He knew what Tra'va's plans were if the worst should happen. He shook that thought out of his head. To be Wolfram's killer, no matter how merciful it might be, would ostracize him from the others and force Conrad to duel him to the death out of honor. Plus, to kill someone as beautiful as Wolfram, the person he'd just gotten to know—

Yozak's heavy footsteps made for the door. Conrad watched. He could see the turmoil on the handsome face as the door closed. And there was no way he'd allow Wolfram to die by his close friend's hand. It would change him forever. Worse yet, it would change _them_ forever.

Murata's black eyes looked into green ones. "I want to speak to Tra'va."

Wolfram stared back, wondering whether he should try to coax the spirit out or not. He wasn't as angry at Murata anymore. And the sage's concern seemed legitimate. _But, still…_ With anger and resentment, letting go was hard. What if Murata tried to trick him again only to side with Yuuri in the end? _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

"Why?" he asked.

Murata rolled his eyes. This would take too long. He should have known better than to try to go through Wolfram. "Tra'va?" he said sternly, ignoring the deep frown that was forming between the blond's eyebrows. "Come to me."

Wolfram's eyes blinked and in the flash of a second, the green irises had dark pink edges to them. The color slowly faded in the left eye to a revolting shade of green mixed with hot pink. The other eye was dull green.

"Sorry," Wolfram's voice whispered. "This is the best I can do." The pale hand reached for Murata's and he gladly took it. "I'm not the woman I once was." She chuckled a little at her own joke, knowing that nobody else found it funny but her. Still, she was satisfied with that because the only opinion she ever truly cared about was her own—hosts and husbands came a distant second and third. At least, that was the lie that she told herself.

"I need to know," the sage said to her, trying to keep his tone even, "are we entering the final stages? Will Wolfram…will you… die if we don't find the shrine soon?"

"I'm already dead, remember?" She winked at him. He needed to lighten up in her opinion. His black eyes, hiding traces of desperation, unnerved her on the inside.

The sage let go of her hand and folded his arms defensively. "You know what I mean."

"Why don't we let Wolfram sleep for an hour longer? He'll feel better if we do," Yuuri suggested, longing to stroke back the damp, blond hair—even if Trouble was the one in control of Wolfram's body at the moment.

"It's what I was thinking, too," Conrad said, actually doing it.

A bead of sweat slowly made its way down, close to Wolfram's ear.

"But it's a bad idea," Tra'va said. "He'll only feel worse in an hour. And, even now, he may have trouble riding a horse. I've been holding off these symptoms for hours. It's only now that Wolfram feels it because, I'm…well…_tired_."

The double black's eyes grew large. "Then, let's go!" With determination, Yuuri reached under his bed for Morgif, blew all of the conga dancing dust bunnies off with a single blow, and shined the scabbard a little with his sleeve. He began to arrange his things, getting himself organized, while the others watched him.

"I agree," Trouble chuckled, letting her eyes linger on him with a calm expression.

Yuuri, fastened Morgif to his hip and glanced over at Wolfram's bed. Tra'va was still looking at him with the ugliest left eye he'd ever seen—the pink and green merged together in unappealing swirls now. He tried not to let the revulsion show.

The eyes stared.

"What?" Yuuri said, patting himself down and touching his face. "Do I have something on me? It's a strange look you're giving me." _Well, strange in more ways than one…_

"Some part of you really does care about Wolfram…a little bit. And that makes me happy." A thin smile followed.

Yuuri frowned at that. He said with a slight blush and a shrug, "It's more than just 'a little bit.'" He brushed the non-existent dust off of his shirt to give himself something to do. He was really feeling put out.

The smile then twitched on the blond's face. "But…it's not love, Yuuri." The head tilted to one side in almost morbid fascination. "You're fooling yourself, then, if you think otherwise."

"Am I?" His face darkened.

_Eh?_ Onyx eyes behind glasses stared. Did Yuuri just admit to having some sort of feelings for Wolfram? Murata was also surprised to hear the resentment in Yuuri's tone.

Wolfram's voice said, "Concern is concern; love is love."

"With Wolfram… and me…it's complicated." Yuuri was trying not to lose his temper. He really was_. How can she say that? Some part of her had to have been awake when I was kissing Wolfram last night. She had to have seen…watched through Wolfram's eyes. …Or did she think I was The Maou, too? But, still. _He made an angry fist.

Murata looked back and forth—like at a tennis tournament. Obviously, Trouble was baiting Yuuri again. He could see it. But, he just couldn't understand why. At this time, Trouble should be quiet and reserving strength for the journey ahead.

"There's all kinds of love," he continued, taking a step towards the bed. Morgif moaned a soft agreement that really wasn't called for.

Murata realized that the double black was much more defensive than before. The aura of the room changed, too, as though calling upon some of The Maou's powers without actually realizing it.

"Yes, I should know," the fox spirit said. "I can read the hearts of everyone around me." The eyes grew hard, looking at Yuuri now. "But don't confuse _love_ and _concern_. Or…you'll suffer for it."

That made Murata and Conrad stare. The room suddenly felt very uncomfortable and the temperature dropped—icy. They glanced at Yuuri to see what he'd do.

"Maybe so…" he said back with angry, moist eyes. "Maybe, that was the problem all along."

Wolfram's body relaxed on the bed a little. "It always was." Then, heaving a sigh and folding the arms sloppily across the chest, Tra'va added, "But The Maou really does love Wolfram…deeply. A pair bond."

Conrad's jaw dropped.

Murata pushed his glasses up on his nose smugly.

Inside of Yuuri, he could feel a begrudging acceptance of the fox spirit's words. As much as he didn't like her, he was big enough to admit when she was right. And, in his opinion, she was.

"So," Wolfram's voice went on with Trouble's words behind it all, "I won't be so hard on you like I was when we first met. I won't ask the impossible of you anymore. And I won't punish you for lacking something…something you simply have no capacity for giving. Loving Wolfram, and being in love _with him_…all of it is simply beyond your abilities." With a toss of the blond bangs, she added, "I think ending the engagement was smart on Wolfram's part. You just don't have the heart."

That was it! He lost his temper and felt the rage inside of him. Maybe, to some extent, it was easier because he was used to arguing with Wolfram back home. _How dare she tell me how to feel! _Yuuri trudged to the side of the bed, leaned over it, and took the blond face roughly in his hand—turning it fully to him. For a split second, both Murata and Conrad saw elements of The Maou in Yuuri's profile and form.

Tra'va turned the face away, jerking it out of his grasp. Nobody touched her unless she wished it.

"Listen, _you_!" he said, injecting the rude Japanese form of "you" into the sentence. That alone shocked the others. "We are going to pack you up and take you to that shrine of yours where I plan on saying 'goodbye' for good. Then, the rest of us are going back to the castle!" He leaned in closer. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits. "You can say anything you want to about me. It won't be a surprise to anybody by now…considering that mouth of yours. But, at the end of the day, Wolfram comes home with me. WITH! ME!"

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"I can't believe that we're riding together… like this… again," Wolfram muttered, leaning over the side of the horse and dry heaving. He remembered boat trips, with seasickness, more pleasurable. He wiped is watery eyes against his forearm.

"Well," Yozak said, trying to avert his gaze from the blond Mazoku, "at least you're not throwing up anymore." He gave a happy-go-lucky shrug.

Still feeling green, the ex-prince forced himself to sit upright in the saddle. "At this point, I've already thrown up all the apple juice from earlier." His hand went to his stomach. It was beginning to cramp up.

"Which, by the way, you downed far too quickly." Yozak smirked at him a little. "Here's your canteen. Drink some water before you start feeling dry on the inside. By the time you realize how thirsty you are, you'll be dehydrated."

Shakily, Wolfram put the canteen to his lips and drank a few sips. He screwed the lid back on tight and gave it to Yozak. "Thank you," he mumbled under his breath and could feel a glow of happiness from the spirit within him. "And…Tra'va says 'thanks,' too."

That got Wolfram a gentle squeeze from a beefy arm. "For Tra'va," Yozak whispered in a low, sexy tone that made him blush.

"Yes, well…" the blond said noncommittally, blinking pink and green mismatched eyes. Then, on its own (which he assumed was Tra'va's doing) his arm raised itself and he pointed out the left fork to their group, taking them across the border into the von Christ lands. The wide road narrowed down into a far simpler one, but one that was better maintained. Now, there was barely enough room for traffic to head east and west.

Yuuri noticed that there were two grey stone markers, to greet the travelers in both directions, with the motto "None are braver than those who face themselves," a direct quote from Shinou, apparently, which was chiseled into them. Murata read the quote and laughed evilly inside of himself. The Original King did say the words. The von Christs got that part right at least. However, what Shinou actually said was, "'None are braver than those who face themselves?' Really, my dear Sage. That's a load of tripe. Don't bother reading that passage to me again. It would be better to rip the page out of the tome and to wipe one's backside with it."

Yuuri looked at the stone markers as they passed and turned to Murata. "Wow…I guess Shinou said some pretty profound things."

Eyes blinked owlishly from behind glasses. "Well…um…okay." He grinned.

The sound of Wolfram heaving again caught their ears. His coughs and gags were getting longer and louder. In between, it was almost as though he needed to gasp for breath. And there was a kind of _desperation_ in his distressed breathing.

Yozak looked down at the figure leaning over the side which was now totally supported by his left arm. Wolfram's palm was firmly planted in front of his mouth, as though that could push back the acid rising in his throat.

"Are you okay, Wolfram?" Yuuri called to him. His face showed unmistakable worry.

He scrunched his eyes shut at the words. _Fool him. I have to._ The blond, clutching his stomach, gave a hard glare. "Do I _sound_ okay?"

"Well, the attitude's just about right," Murata chuckled. He wanted to lighten up the mood, if he could, before Yuuri got worried. Following that, acting rashly was usually the next step for him. And Murata wasn't inclined to go through more arguments between Yuuri and Trouble. Just packing up was an uncomfortable chore with his friend and the spirit shooting glares at each other. It was godsend when Wolfram finally took his body back for the journey ahead. "Keep up the good work," he said cheerily to the blond.

Wolfram rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve—a sleeve attached to a white shirt that the sage had loaned to him this morning. Just to be mean, his wiped his mouth again.

Yuuri smiled a little at Murata's words. It broadened when the blond sat up again, trying even harder to act "normally" in front of him. Wolfram folded his arms and tried to "huff" in displeasure as a cover for the dizzy spell that was coming back. But, the world began to spin and the concepts of "up" and "down" became totally alien.

"Damn it," Wolfram hissed to himself. He wobbled a bit in the saddle and his body strained against the arm holding him in place.

"Seriously now," Yozak said in his ear, "…you okay?" He could feel the blond breathing hard in his arms, his chest moving in irregular breaths.

Wolfram's eyes shot in the direction he knew his brother and Yuuri to be. Murata had to be somewhere on Yuuri's other side that he couldn't see. "No," he whispered back in a rush. "And this ice," he went on, pulling the pillowcase from his bed that was filled with ice and pushed against his sternum, "is dripping all over me, but it's not holding back the heat as well as it did an hour ago."

"Well, keep it pressed against you anyway. Every little bit helps."

Yozak felt a blond head nod, reluctantly, in agreement. And, then, he felt the head lean against him with a very frustrated "sorry."

"It's okay," Yozak said, coiling his arm a little more tightly against Wolfram. Sleep now and I'll wake you at the next turn.

"Fine," he sighed back with an edge, "but just tell everyone I fell asleep. Do not tell them that I feel this bad. I'm tired of them staring at me, and I don't want their pity."

"Com' on… They care about you." The spy's words were kind, but he understood why the blond felt that way.

"I know that. But, there's nothing they can do." He leaned in again and turned his head to the side. "And, another thing…" Wolfram got dizzy again, his fever blush getting darker, and, like a rag doll, he wobbled.

The world faded to black and his body grew heavy.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri wailed, urging his steed closer. Because of the sudden, uncoordinated movement in front of him, he caught the sight of Wolfram's collapse. The blond head rolled along with the shifting body.

Conrad heard Yuuri and his head whipped in Wolfram's direction. He, too, urged his horse forward with a panicked "Wolfram!"

The orange haired spy stopped the horse, dipped his hand in the wet cloth against Wolfram's chest and patted Wolfram's face with cold fingers. Not willing to give up, he pressed the hand against a warm cheek. Eyes flew open at that.

"Wolfram?" Yozak said in a low voice. He stroked the face with cool fingers until Wolfram was able to focus his eyes on him.

The blond put a hand to his head. He felt like warmed over crap.

"Yozak, I can carry Wolfram for awhile," his brother said, motioning with his arms stretched out. He would carry his little brother from here on in. Some part of him, the brother who held him at birth, _needed_ to hold Wolfram to assure himself that his baby brother would survive this.

"No," Wolfram whispered into the spy's chest.

"He's not a burden. I quite like holding him," the spy said with a kind of "over the top cheerfulness" that spoke volumes to his long time friend.

Conrad lowered his arms at that. But the brown eyes and blue eyes formed a connection; a link.

Wolfram noticed, with a begrudging envy and respect, that the two of them had their "special" unspoken language between them. And, at the moment, they were speaking volumes in a foreign tongue he couldn't even begin to comprehend. He promised himself that, should he survive this, he would build such a relationship with The Maou so that they, too, could speak without words.

Wolfram gripped Yozak's hand and held on. "I'm not moving. There's no need. I'm going to stay with Yozak because I'm damn well not getting off," he said as the last of the dizzy spell started to clear out of him. He scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face into Yozak's chest again. And, because of that, he missed the deep frown on Yuuri's face and the look of distress on Conrad's. Yozak gave him the "If he prefers me, then we should let him be comfortable" vibe. Reluctantly, Conrad agreed with a slow nod, noting the way his brother was clutching at his chest with one hand. Conrad also saw that, with the opposite hand, Wolfram had tightened his fingers in the material on Yozak's sleeve just under the shoulder. His knuckles were white.

"…And that's all there is to it." Some part of Wolfram couldn't believe he just said that. He cringed. The truth was that, at least, Yozak was strong enough to hold him, and the spy would try to preserve his dignity as much as possible. Wolfram knew that now. And the very idea of getting off one horse just to get on another one was even more sickening to his stomach. "Besides," Wolfram breathed, "we need to go this way anyhow." He pointed to a little dirt trail off of their road. It wandered away towards a lake and some trees. Yuuri thought he could spot a small structure made of grey stone beyond that.

The horses turned and headed off in a new direction, following the trail.

"Yozak?" he whispered.

"Hm?" The spy answered. He wondered if the blond was going to give him another "thank you," or if he felt well enough to go back into his "bratty" nature and would start issuing orders. The latter would relieve his worries more than the former.

"Tra'va and I…we're tired. We really are…" His grip on Yozak's sleeve was loosening. The fingers trailed through the material before falling away.

"I see…" the spy said quietly, trying not to say something that could be overheard.

"The dagger…" Wolfram said, leaning blond curls into his chest. "…if all goes horribly wrong... Tra'va could try to transform and use her talons instead, but maybe not… So, the dagger would…be…"

"Wolfram… I…" Yozak interrupted. But, he felt stupid doing it. He didn't know what to say. Caring for Wolfram had almost become second nature to him now. Yozak just couldn't do it. And he realized, now, that there had never been a point when he was able to.

"I know you can't," Wolfram admitted slowly with a grim smile. "It was inexcusable to ask that of you. So… Just put it in my hand and I'll do the rest." He gave the spy a sincere look, the kind that melted hearts. "It beats the alternative of…Conrad watching me die."

_Conrad?_ Sky blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're only speaking Conrad's name to make me agree," he spat, but did it so that only the two of them could hear. Now, he was furious with Wolfram. He hated being manipulated. This was just typical of the spoiled prince.

"Yes," the blond admitted in a hushed tone. "You've found me out. I'm selfish…to the core…not that you didn't know that before." The head snuggled into his chest a little. "But…I'm no liar. I can't keep feeling like this." And then the spy's ears picked up the soft words, "It hurts. It _burns_...Yozak."

He quickly forgot his anger and held Wolfram closer to him. _Oh, Hell!_ "Let's find this shrine."

To everyone's surprise, the spy suddenly urged his horse to ride at a gallop, sending up little clouds of red dirt behind him.

_Hold on, Wolfram. Hold on!_

* * *

The Hermit's Shrine of the Holy Sepulcher was a small, ancient structure made of stonework and mortar with a simple roof and a garden path of moss covered pavestones leading up to an ornately carved oak door with heavy, iron hinges.

The current hermit, a short, shriveled up like a prune Mazoku in his early 400's wearing a dark brown robe tied at the waist with a strand of rope, was busy, kneeling down to get a better look at the red roses he had been cross pollinating. The new variety, one that he hoped would be more resistant to black spot in the wetter weather, would be his contribution to the beauty of the shrine. And, of course, the added bonus would be the rosehip tea that he could enjoy all winter long once he made his modest harvest.

The sound of horse hooves behind him made him jump.

_Visitors_, he thought, holding back a frown. _Now, I will be out of my schedule for the rest of the day. I hope they leave before vespers._

The man stood up and wiped his lightly soiled hands together until they were clean. And, with the action, went his annoyance. If these people managed to find him and the shrine, by whatever miracle, he could at least greet them in a civilized manner.

Five horses came into view. Oddly, there were two riders on the first horse. And, that alone worried the hermit. So cut off from the temptations and cruelties of Shin Makoku, he knew that he would probably be the last to know if war had been declared or if a plague should befall the people.

As the riders drew near, the hermit noticed that the blond rider's body seemed crumpled against an orange haired half-Mazoku male. The blond's eyelids were hanging low and his hands were grasping his shoulders. The angelic face showed pain—the ride jarring his body, the old man guessed.

The hermit raised a hand in greeting as he approached the strangers. Obviously, the blond young man was the one in need of help. And, if possible, he could use a mixture of herbs and healing magic to send them on their way.

"Greetings," the hermit said with a smile. "I am Adalric, keeper of the shrine." He nodded humbly and his bald head gleamed a bit when the sun hit it.

With fatigue, Wolfram dragged his leg over and tried to get down by himself before Yozak stopped him. "Let me get off first. Then, I'll get you."

The blond shook his head "no" and found himself very much alone on the horse.

Yozak stood on the ground with his arms raised. "C'mon."

_Jerk…doesn't listen to anyone…._ Shakily, the blond wiped some sweat from his cheek with the back of his hand. Then, he tossed away the "now very wet and empty" pillowcase, folded his arms in defiance, and said "Humph, I'm not a pretty princess. I'm a _man_. And, I can get down on my own."

Suddenly, a callused hand grabbed Wolfram's elbow and yanked hard—sending him over the side and into the strong arms of Yozak. The pale face framed with orange hair filled Wolfram's whole field of vision. "_Man_, you're a pain… Any more attitude," came the dark, sexy tone, "and I'll hand you over to the sage, bridal style."

Pink and green eyes widened at that.

"You wouldn't dare. As weak as I am, he'd take advantage," Wolfram murmured, eyeing Murata as he jumped down from his horse. "Who knows what he'd do and what Tra'va'd _let him do_ as a 'farewell' gesture." The burning increased in his chest. The blond decided it was the sage's fault—somehow. He narrowed his eyes.

Yozak laughed. It had a mischievous ring to it.

Wolfram began to sweat for a whole new reason besides his fever. "We can't have sex at a holy site. We'd be cursed!"

Another laugh.

He chewed on his lower lip. "But, I'm not interested in Murata that way," he protested in a harsh whisper. The blond folded his arms to push back the burning feeling, he told himself.

"You didn't care earlier," Yozak pointed out.

"I couldn't feel anything earlier…when she was in control," Wolfram admitted reluctantly.

Yozak was now close enough to kiss. He swallowed hard.

"Was that 'couldn't?' Or…'didn't want to'?" Yozak asked in half seriousness.

"Put me down," Wolfram gritted out. Then, on his feet, he added as an after thought, "the hermit was staring at us."

"And the kiddo still is," Yozak said with a hand on the blond's shoulder, and a head motioning to the double black.

_Eh?_ Wolfram turned to look at Yuuri. He was standing next to his horse with his hands on his hips and a dark expression. The black eyes looked levelly at him. The expression said, "And you're always the one to call _me_ 'cheater'."

_What Yuuri sees, The Maou sees_, the blond worried to himself, wrapping an arm around his ribs and slowly straightening up all the way. He rubbed his feverish face again and approached the hermit. _I know that Yuuri doesn't care that much for me. He has someone else—maybe, several "someones." But The Maou is probably mad. If I make it through this, I could be in for some trying times later._

"Greetings, Hermit Adalric," Wolfram said, making great efforts to hide the pained voice that would give him away. He stopped before the elderly man with a slight smile on his lips. The others followed up behind Wolfram.

One look at the pink and green eyes startled the hermit. He took a step backwards and eyed the young man before him. _Feverish face. Body bent over, holding his chest…and those eyes! It must be a new disease. I've never seen the likes of it before._

A part of the old Mazoku wanted to flee from Wolfram. If it was a disease, it seemed to affect the eyes first. They could all be blind, or even dead, very soon. However, the kinder and more loving nature was the dominant one. To heal was his first instinct. And, if he could save this blond stranger, he would. Adalric reached a hand out to cure the fever first and a green glow came from his hand. "You seem sick, young one."

Wolfram laughed a little, caught the man's wrist, and lowered the hand. In a voice that sounded like his mixed with Tra'va's, the blond said, "You should know me, hermit."

The old man's jaw dropped. And so did everyone else's.

"You saw me in the dream last night, remember?" A smile followed.

The old man shook his head. "I would have remembered a cherub in my dreams. What I saw was…"

"A flying fox?" the blond offered. "Just like the legends…?"

"Well…yes…" He gaped at that. "A…fox _woman_…" He studied Wolfram a little closer now, wondering for a second if the stranger was a female after all, but in disguise. Foxes were known to be sneaky and take on unusual forms. Male or female? Then, he decided it didn't matter. A beautiful youth was a beautiful youth. "Umm….You are a…_good_ fox…right?"

From behind, everyone laughed nervously at that. Tra'va shot them a dangerous "What, the hell, do you think you're doing? I'm trying to impress this guy" look and they sweat dropped.

Tra'va straightened her shoulders and tried again. "I'll bring you wisdom."

Yuuri snickered behind his hand at that.

"And my first profound thought is," and Tra'va pointed at Yuuri, "he's a prat."

Everyone snickered but the double black.

The blond nodded at the stunned hermit, who was quickly questioning the veracity of the "good" fox who was walking into the shrine. Without turning, Tra'va said, "I will be your companion for the next twenty years if the ritual goes well." The blond passed through the doorway and, for a brief second, Tra'va's head and the shadow of her shoulders loomed over Wolfram. But, the moment passed and the blond walked on.

Yuuri and Murata shot glances at each other.

Yozak made a movement to get the dagger from his saddlebag. But, his hand couldn't touch it. The spy couldn't even touch the bag. Instead, his hand was there—frozen in mid air. Then, it fell. Yozak made for the entrance silently berating himself when he felt a large, warm hand on the middle of his back.

"You're not a failure," Conrad said quietly, "even if it was what Wolfram wanted."

"You knew…that he'd ask for the dagger again." Yozak stared levelly, his hair blowing slightly in the wind.

"I guessed," Conrad said, sliding the hand over to the shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We'll get through this, though."

Yozak sighed and tried to appear cheerful for Conrad's sake. And Conrad appreciated it.

Inside the shrine, there were four simple pews made out of cherry wood resting on a grey, stone floor. A small, raised dais had a lectern with an old, well thumbed tome resting closed on it. To the right of the lectern was an ornate chair decorated in gold paint. On the left side, there was a small recess with a wooden shelf built inside of it. It held a small book with golden embossed pages, an oil lamp, a crystal goblet, and a long, narrow shadow box with an arm bone fragment and a lock of blond hair.

The only window was a round, stained glass window on the wall behind the dais—depicting a tree with spreading branches. Green and gold light spilled in and gave a kindly glow on the people within.

"Too tired to stand…through this…" Without asking permission, Wolfram placed a palm against his chest and forced his body into the chair. The burning sensation increased, causing him to bite back a groan. But, Yuuri could see it. Even with all of his soldier's training, there was no way to hide how sick he was anymore.

The hermit was about to protest Wolfram getting on the dais and sitting in the chair without permission, but one hard glare shut him up right away.

Wolfram closed his eyes briefly and took some cleansing breaths. When he opened them again, they had adjusted to the low light.

"Choose, Wolfram," Tra'va said out loud.

"What?" He answered back in his own voice.

It was odd, disconcerting. Wolfram and Tra'va were speaking to each other out loud as themselves.

"My new vessel," she said and pointed to the shelf of objects. "Decide…where I should go. You are the only host I have ever given this honor to…by the way."

Wolfram turned his body slightly to stare at the shelf—as did everybody else.

"Do you choose: The book…knowledge. The oil lamp…insight. The goblet…fellowship. Or, the bone…reverence?"

"The bone…?" The hermit squeaked incredulously. "That is Shinou's. You can't use the most hallowed relic in the entire kingdom as a home!"

Murata stared at the bone and the lock of blond hair from the spot where he was standing—and smiled deviously. The lock of hair was the wrong shade of blond. It was bleach blond. The hair was nothing even close to the sunny color that Shinou once had. Only Wolfram had come close. And only he, himself, knew the true place where Shinou's bones were buried. Murata could still see himself, as the Original Sage, setting the funeral pyre and burning Shinou's body after taking his soul. He sat alone, just the two of them—one alive and one set aflame—with the wind slicing against his skin almost cruelly. And Shinou's beautiful face disappearing in a violent burst of dying ember sparks. Abandoned and alone… But, between his palms, he held Shinou's warm soul in a vessel. His treasure.

Tears pricked at Murata's eyes. The words he spoke at their first meeting were true. _No good can come from an association with me._

"Does it really matter, Tra'va?" Wolfram asked irritably. The burning inside of him was getting to the point where he couldn't focus.

"To me, it does."

Wolfram nodded. "Then, this is my choice." He closed his eyes and told her what he wanted for her_. …Because you love me…and I want the best for you…if you can't be inside of me any longer._

Tra'va smiled at it all—Wolfram's admission and his choice for her. And, she suspected, even he didn't fully comprehend the ramifications.

"Agreed, then."

Wolfram's hands rested on the arms of the chair. His feet were planted firmly. "Let us begin," Tra'va said, her voice carrying over Wolfram's. "Amicitiae nostrae memoriam spero sempiternam fore." The words echoed slightly.

Black and purple magic began to seep from Wolfram's body like a strange mist—swirling, holding him. A slick residue formed from the magic, settling down on Wolfram's skin. He threw back his head and hissed at the feeling—electricity biting him, numbing pain quickly following. Green eyes became red, bloody. Wolfram gasped for breath as his form changed and the "shadow-man" reappeared, superimposed on the body in the chair.

A thin web came from Wolfram's chest. It fell away from him, like a shimmering fold of ivory silk. It sought out the edges of the chair, the dais, and the lectern. One thin strand reached out like a finger for the shelf. It flicked open the latch to the shadow box with the lock of hair and the bone.

"You chose the bone."

"I did," he breathed. "You told me once… No one buried you when you died…remember? They just left your body as a warning to not raid the king's tomb."

The spirit wanted to laugh, but there was too much pain in Wolfram's body.

"It's time to say goodbye, Wolfram," Tra'va said. Her ghostly arms held him.

The black and purple magic circled them, causing a breeze which pushed against Conrad, Yozak, Murata, and Yuuri. The old hermit backed away to the wall closest to the door and leaned against it for support.

A crackling sound and a deep rumbling made them all jump.

Wolfram's hands gripped the armrests.

"Now!" Tra'va's voice echoed in the room.

The energy rose and the shadow-man form leaned back, trying to block out the pain. It didn't last long. Wolfram thrashed in the chair. Try as he might, he couldn't help himself.

Sparks of energy shot at them.

The purple and black magic began to fade enough to reveal Wolfram's features. He was breathing hard and groaned in pain when the next shock hit them.

"I can't!" Wolfram said in Tra'va's voice. "I don't think I have enough energy to shift away." She was panicked, shaking her head "no" and Wolfram's body, like a puppet, was following each gesture.

"Tra'va!" Wolfram shouted over the noise.

"If I can't do this, you're going to die, Wolfram!"

"Keep trying!" he encouraged and closed his eyes tightly, willing it to succeed.

"I don't have the strength. I'm too tired. It's too much. I can't leap."

There were tears on Wolfram's face now. They weren't his.

"I'm scared," she whimpered.

Yuuri wanted to go to Wolfram and took a step before he felt Murata holding him back.

"Murata!" he shouted in frustration.

"Shibuya, if you touch even one of those strands, you'll break the web," he pointed out. Yuuri's black eyes turned and he saw that Wolfram was now covered in a fine web of silver threads. "Break even one strand, and…" Murata didn't finish his thought. He didn't need to.

Wolfram scrunched his eyes shut. "Then… Then, take my magic! It's fire magic and we're both fire wielders. So, do it!"

Tra'va shook her head "no." "You're tired, too. I can't just…"

"I SAID, DO IT!" Wolfram roared. "Take it! TAKE IT ALL if you have to!" The purple and black bands were the only ribbons of magic tied to them now. His blond hair blew across his face, his eyes hidden in shadow.

Suddenly, Yuuri couldn't breathe. _What? No….NO!_ He turned to Conrad in a panic, grasping his sleeve. "She can't just take all of his magic! He'll die! Just like Susanna Julia!"

Conrad's head whipped to look at his brother. The soldier's heart was beating hard. This was his little brother. And, in front of them all, he was willing to sacrifice his life for the fox spirit. Conrad's final moments and memories of Susanna Julia came flooding into his head mixed with memories of a little Wolfram studying in the library with her. Then, it was Wolfram—wrapped up in a white and golden embroidered blanket, as a toddler throwing fists of green peas at a maid, as a young man dueling Yuuri for the first time…

"Wolfram!" Conrad shouted, quickly followed by a pleading cry from Yuuri.

Murata stood silently with his jaw set tightly. _They just don't understand. If Tra'va doesn't jump into her new vessel, Wolfram dies. If she needs all of Wolfram's magic, he still dies._

Wolfram slumped in the chair, his eyes watery with tears. He looked at the people before him and thought to himself that, at the very least, he spent his final moments with the people who cared about him. But, now that his engagement was officially over, he would be like the bone in the window box—separated forever from the ones he loved in life. Wolfram knew he would be buried in his father's lands, and Yuuri would be entombed with the Maous in Blood Pledge Castle. But, it was okay, he decided. Wherever Yuuri was—wherever The Maou was—it would be fine because they would live. And if Tra'va died with him, he would keep his promise and hold onto her in the void for all eternity.

She was so much a part of him anyway, it would almost be a comfort knowing that he would be with someone who cared for him so deeply.

Despite the pain and fatigue—his body begging to be released from this moment—Wolfram lifted his head and smiled at Yuuri one last time.

"It was good…while it lasted, you know."

In his mind's eye, Wolfram gathered the last of his magic—a burning flame in the palm of his left hand. He found Tra'va's hand and placed the magic in her palm. She struggled with him—trying to pull away, trying not to take it. "Where I'm going, you shouldn't follow," she whispered. "It's a bad place." Wolfram laughed, forcing the magic into her palm anyway. "You're right. Someone should go on, and I choose…you."

Red and yellow fire fanned out—layering over the black and purple bands of magic that outlined their bodies. A shooting flame, burned and followed the web lines like a long, intricately woven wick set ablaze which hissed loudly. The flames joined and narrowed down to a single strand, going into the box with the bone fragment and the lock of hair.

Murata dropped to his knees. This was it.

Wolfram and Tra'va screamed together; hideous and agonizing.

Conrad found Yuuri's hand and held it tightly, shaking hard. Wolfram was beyond help. He knew it, and he would curse himself forever because of it. But Yuuri had to be protected from doing something rash. Yuuri would be his sole devotion now, and he would never make this mistake again—to allow a danger to come so close to someone he loved.

"Wolf_ram_!" The voice broke as it cried the name.

Conrad's wide eyes turned.

Before he knew it, Yuuri's smaller hand slipped out of his grip and the double black was running forward. His hair lengthened to his shoulders with the first step. His shoulders widened with the second. Blue bands of light and energy engulfed him with the third. The eyes had black slits by the time he'd reached the chair and pulled Wolfram into his arms, engulfing everything in a blue-white light.

"Yuuri! Wolfram!" Conrad shouted, hands clinched into fists.

What if he lost both of them?

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

Chaper 16

The scent of ozone filled the air. The lectern broke and the ancient tome flew apart—scattering well thumbed, illuminated pages throughout the little shrine. The ragged-edged papers fluttered against walls and pews. With Wolfram out of the chair and crushed in The Maou's possessive embrace, the chair tipped over and crashed to the floor in a shower of splintered wood. A pulsing, blue and white whirlwind engulfed Wolfram and The Maou with the Demon King's husky voice speaking the word "beloved."

* * *

Wolfram's vision had already faded to black. He reached out for Tra'va one last time to hold her, to say "goodbye." But, instead, she grabbed him and latched on.

"Damn," she hissed under her breath.

"It didn't work, did it?" Wolfram said. He rested his head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I wasn't enough." He rubbed his blond locks against her, wanting to be soothed. A hand stroked his hair gently leaving a slight tingle on his scalp. Everything that Wolfram cared about melted away in that moment. He decided it was best not to think about Yuuri or The Maou—or even his family. Wherever his soul would go or whatever happened to him next would be beyond his control anyway.

"I love you," Tra'va whispered in his ear.

He huffed a laugh. "You're always telling me that," the blond countered, pressing his face in the curve of her neck. The long, red fox hair was tickling his face again. With a little hesitation, his hands found their way to her narrow shoulders and caressed them. "But you've never asked me to say it back to you."

He heard a slight chuckle. "I know better than to do that," she said with a lilt in her voice, "because your heart does not belong to me…and I don't want to force you into a lie for my sake."

Wolfram frowned at that. He did. Some part of him knew that the spirit could read him, understand what he wanted, and accept the person he loved without explanations or apologies. "I'm…I'm sorry, Tra'va." His words were sincere. One sided love was hard, almost impossible. He'd lived with it for so long, and he knew how it could eat at you as the years slowly passed.

"But some part of me cares for you…deeply."

A fox smile played on her lips. "Yes…yes, you do. And, for me, that was always enough."

Like a monochrome sunrise, the place where they were standing brightened into a steely grey.

"I'm not sorry about everything we've done," she said with a gentle voice. "The only thing I regret, though, is that it ended this way."

Then, small clouds of steam began rolling up. The fingers curled and stretched. The temperature grew hotter and there were suddenly walls surrounding them. A smooth, slick amber colored floor appeared beneath their bare feet.

"What's happening?" the blond asked, hearing his voice echo for the first time, and then he looked down at himself. He had only a damp, semi-transparent towel wrapped low around his hips. Add to the fact, he could see that his fingers were now laced around the back of Tra'va's neck. She was wearing a large, white beach towel. Her red fox hair was hanging limply from her head in thin, twisted strands that were wet from the steam and humidity.

"Tra'va?" he said, patting her face gently. She felt real—even more "real" than when she was inside of him and touched soul to soul. "This is…you…right?" Trouble felt warm, and not just from the steam, either. Gently exploring, he slid his palms over her face, neck, shoulders, down her back, and along the folded, leathery wings which were the color of espresso.

_Real…whoa…!_

He knew that he should have felt embarrassed. But the two of them had an intimacy that few could really understand. He caressed her body a second time the same way with absolute wonder.

"Be careful there," she said in a sexy tone, "among my kind, you just proposed." She snickered at her own little joke when she saw Wolfram blush beet red. "Well, stroking my wings like that is the equivalent to having someone run fingers up your thigh." She pulled the blond closer against her and smiled down at him. A tiny fang popped out.

Wolfram's eyes widened and, through their bond, she could feel his heartbeat pick up. "And you're almost good enough to eat, too."

"…Eat…?" He said vaguely, as though the word was slipping through his mind.

She put two fingers under his chin and tilted it up. Then, the same hand smoothed back blond hair from his eyes. "I just might kiss you someday, you know." Tra'va's lips neared his, teasingly.

"I wouldn't doubt it," he said, coming back a little more to himself as the seconds ticked on and her lips didn't move any nearer.

Wolfram cocked his head to one side and wondered if anything she'd just said was true or not. Foxes were crafty, even flying ones, but he could be crafty, too. He returned the spirit's smile and was about to threaten to steal her fluffy towel when he saw her red eyes flash and her breath hitch.

Red eyes glared at the rolling steam to her right.

"What?" Wolfram said, worried now.

Tra'va's first instinct with Wolfram was _to_ _protect_. Now, their bodies were pressed so close that he could feel her muscles tense up.

"We're not…alone," she said with an edge to it. "Something's in here with us." She chewed her bottom lip for a second, thinking fast. "Place your hand on my shoulder and do not let go." Tra'va wiggled from Wolfram's grip and stood before him—wings expanded just enough to shield all view of the blond. If something, some demonic spirit, was going to attack them. She'd meet it first and deal with it.

Her head moved right and left—tracking the thing. But, it seemed to be everywhere. Nowhere. _How?_

Wolfram took a shallow breath when she flicked out her talons.

"Tra'va?"

"It's okay. We're together."

Wolfram set his jaw at that. He felt useless again. Just to see if it would work, he silently called upon his fire magic. Nothing. Not even a spark. He'd given it all to Tra'va. He rested his head against her back in frustration--and got a sideways glance and a pleased smirk from a face with red eyes .

"Was that black place from before 'the void'…or is this it?" Wolfram whispered.

"Neither," she said back in a hushed tone. "Both were too bright from what I've been told." The fox spirit took two steps forward and Wolfram followed.

"Something's cradling our souls…_Here…but not here_…"

"Then, where are we?" Wolfram demanded. He ran his fingers through his mop of blond hair and flipped the damp bangs back.

She scanned the rolling, billowing clouds with her squinted eyes, distracted by his question. "Away…we're _away_, Wolfram…"

The steam was getting thicker. Stray ribbons of white seemed to drape around them.

The blond frowned and leaned against her back to whisper, "That tells me nothing."

Tra'va rolled her eyes at that. "Fine then," she grumbled. "My theory is that we're in a confined metaphysical plane of existence which differs from the standard modes of the 'conscious' and 'subconscious' that individuals are capable of perceiving."

"You learned that from one of your hosts, didn't you?" His mouth was a thin line. Eyes narrowed, looking off into space.

Red eyes shot sideways. "My response to that would be a sincere and loving '_Duh'_."

Wolfram scratched his head. "Okay," he said slowly, "so…we're '_away_.'"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Yes, but how _did we get here_?" Wolfram demanded. He wanted to yell in frustration, but got a grip on himself instead when something moved.

The blond peeked over Trouble's shoulder to see the shadow of a form approaching them. It walked with a graceful but purposeful gait. Wolfram's grip on Trouble's shoulder tightened. Then, everything brightened to a glaring white and Wolfram, throwing an arm across his eyes to block out the light, disappeared from behind Tra'va.

Trouble turned, panicked, not being to find him or even sense him. _No…NO!!_ She clawed at the rolling whiteness—hoping to hit something. But, before she could call out to him, a voice said, "I have a job for you."

The fox spirit, recognizing the voice took two steps forward in defiance. "You!" Her face twisted in anger. "I suspected this had something to do with you. Fire magic and water magic combined creates this," she complained bitterly, waving away a curling puff of steam.

"You guessed correctly."

Two water dragons formed beside Tra'va, flanking her, and snaked away into the distance, disappearing behind rolling clouds of hot water vapor with a roar.

She lowered her head, shaking it as she did so. This really pissed her off. She was being pushed into a corner. "A job, huh? Is this for the greater good?" she asked suspiciously, arms folded against her chest.

"You will have no regrets."

She straightened up with a heated glare. "Then," Tra'va said, following the water dragons, "I will go with you." As she stomped off barefoot, she added, "But I don't want to go off parading myself in a towel. Get me some better clothes, damn it!"

* * *

Yuuri walked through the rolling clouds of steam. A little disoriented, he continued on in what he hoped was one direction until the rolling puffs parted suddenly and there was a wall. He made a right turn and went on in the same manner.

He glanced at the floor and what little of the ceiling he could make out. "I think I'm in the royal baths," he muttered to himself. "And, if that's so, I should turn here and go on until…" He took a few more steps and then quickly pulled his leg back when he saw the edge of the tub and water.

"Okay, so…now that I know where I am, how did I get here…?"

Yuuri heard a sound. No, _sounds_.

"Eh?"

Nearing to the place where he expected the door to be, he could just make out a woman's voice chanting from somewhere far off in the distance.

The double black found the door to the bath, opened it, and took a right. "I know I am in Blood Pledge Castle. But, where is everyone?" His head turned left and right.

All was still. Quiet. Unnaturally so.

The sound of a woman's voice continued to get louder and louder. "It's…umm…this way…?" He turned down another hallway and realized that he was going into the Throne Room. And he stepped in, but got the surprise of his life.

His throne was gone. The room had been expanded somehow. It was unnaturally large and wide. The walls had been painted a soft gold color. And the room was also decked out with green, hand woven tapestries hanging from the ceiling and folds of white silk fabric piled up all over the floor .

The double black stepped cautiously into the room, fearful that he would slip and fall on a silk covered marble floor. But, oddly, he didn't.

Yuuri scanned the room with his eyes and saw Tra'va with her back to him.

The fox spirit had a solid form now—which he had not seen since the night she had kissed Murata while sitting on his lap. Trouble was wearing a charcoal colored sarong skirt tied into a knot at her right hip, a tight half shirt in dark blue, and her long, red fox hair pulled away from her face, tied up neatly in a black gauze scarf.

Tra'va looked over her shoulder suddenly, noticing Yuuri. Her sharp features couldn't hide her misery. And, her beautiful fox eyes had tears falling through the lashes.

"Oh…It's you," she said in a wet voice and turned her attention back to…

"Wolfram!" Yuuri said, running across the floor now to join them.

A long, irregular slab of crystal with the edges nipped, chipped, and cracked, was supported by four legs of hard, cold steel that were pointed on the ends like diminutive swords. Eight centimeters above the narrow platform, Wolfram's body floated. His hair gently billowed, as though immersed in water. His clothes, a white tunic top and trousers to match, did likewise.

On either end, there were two copper fire pits with wrought iron leg stands. The deep basins were already filled with wood chips and some sort of exotic spice that Yuuri couldn't quite make out from its scent.

"What are you…?" Yuuri began to ask. But, the fox woman turned, glared dangerously, and returned to her work.

Trouble cupped her hands together humbly.

The double black cringed a little at the crudeness when she spat a flame into her hands and it blossomed out. She moved to the first fire pit. Dipping a finger into the flames, she removed part of it and began to paint with the fire. Yuuri stood there, impressed. The image was of a blazing star. She moved to the second fire pit, her sarong swaying against narrow hips with each step. Above it, she drew a mountain. Again, the details were beautiful, perfect.

"We belong to the heavens and to the earth beneath our feet." She suppressed a sob, but Yuuri could hear it. "We come, gain knowledge, and we return..."

Tra'va raised her hands and the fire-pictures dripped like molten lava into the fire pits, casting them ablaze with a cruel fury at the first touch. Orange and yellow tongues flicked at them. Yuuri took a step back, but stared, confused, at Tra'va. It was almost as though she wanted to be burned and welcomed it with hands stretched out.

Sweet smelling grey smoke billowed out, spreading across the floor.

Then, taking it no more, Tra'va dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands. She cried openly, not caring that Yuuri was in the room.

"Trouble, tell me… This isn't really Blood Pledge Castle, right?" He knelt down. "So…why are we here?" He tried to touch Tra'va's shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "I know it's not real. It's just made to feel like we're here…" He stood. The double black approached Wolfram and wanted to touch him, too, but pulled his hand back—as though afraid to break the frail magic that supported his body. "What's wrong with Wolfram? Why is he like this?"

When she didn't answer, he began to worry. He said louder, "Tell me!"

Trouble sniffed and removed her hands. Silver trails shined down her face. She stood, forcing herself up with great effort.

"He gave me his fire," she said, fighting to keep her voice even and failing miserably. "There's _nothing_ left. There's no hope."

Yuuri shook his head, disbelieving. "He's right here, isn't he? We'll find a way," the double black said forcefully. "We'll put you where you belong, and we'll get Wolfram out of this somehow. We will!" He approached the fox woman and grabbed her shoulders, trying to get her to believe him. No, he _needed_ her to believe him. Then he stepped around her, and came as close to Wolfram's body as he dared.

Tra'va glared at his back. "You don't get it, do you?"

"What?" He fumed in a tone he usually reserved for Wolfram.

Trouble balled up her fists. "How many times, Yuuri? HOW _MANY_?!" she suddenly roared at him, venom dripping from every word.

His angry black eyes met hers but couldn't comprehend why she was saying it.

"How many times do you have to come close to losing him before you finally see it? Before you understand it?" She squeezed her eyes shut and yelled, "What's wrong with you?!"

"What are you talking about?!" Yuuri shouted angrily, eyebrows knitted together. He was frustrated. All the two of them ever did was fight. And this was not the time for it.

"Just look at him!" Trouble said, pointing a finger. "I've tried sacrificing myself so that he would live…so that he would go on." Her wings flapped hard, pushing with a hard gust at the floor. "And, what have you done for him?" An angry tear fell from her face. She wiped it away impatiently with a fist. "Even now…" she said while she stepped towards him, "would you trade places with Wolfram? Would you trade your life for his?"

Onyx eyes widened at that.

"Had there been hope for only one of you…who would you have chosen?"

Yuuri clinched his fists and cringed at the thought of them being separated.

"Then…and now…," he said with his eyes in shadow, looking down, "I choose him. I want him to live."

"A lie," Tra'va roared back, the fire pits blazed towards the ceiling with her words. "You're not doing this out of _love_. You're doing this out of concern, _obligation—as his friend, as his king_."

"It's not true!" he shot back. "I do…love him…"

"I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter what you believe," Yuuri said. "What matters is what _he believes_."

"My point exactly!" Tra'va said with another angry flap of her wings, sounding thick and heavy as though someone had waved a piece of leather in the wind. "And, right now, he believes that his only _sincere_ lover was The Maou." She placed a hand on her hip. "And as much as that bastard pisses me off, I know that he loves Wolfram, too. And this whole time, I was hoping that someone new would win Wolfram's heart…_so that he could forget about you_…" Then, her eyes filled with tears again. "And I still want that…should he live…because… I've died before and I know what that feels like…to die believing you're alone and unloved…" She rested her palm over here eyes. "What am I saying? Wolfram's fire is gone. He'll die soon enough…and a part of me wants to go with him. But, the truth is…that where he's going…I can't follow...."

She lowered her palm, growled, and blood red eyes turned in Yuuri's direction. She grew angry all over again from just the sight of him. "All we had to do was go to the shrine! That's all! No stupid adventures. No chasing after idiots using magic beyond their control. If we had made it straight here, it would have been fine!"

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at that. "And, what were you doing the whole time? Chipping at Wolfram's soul just like…" He pointed to the delicate crystal platform Wolfram's body was hovering over. "Just like…that…"

"And what, _the Hell_, do you think that is?"

Allowing the fire within herself to take hold, she grabbed Yuuri by his black coat and pulled him closer—talons ripping into the material. "And most of those marks and cracks were not made by me!" The pair were practically face to face now. "Three guesses as to who did that!"

Her hands shook.

"I hate you," she seethed, fangs glinting. "I hate you so much for everything you've put him through…for years..." Tears leaked from her eyes and Yuuri could do nothing but stare with his arms hanging limply at his sides. "Yuuri, he loved you and gave you everything." The black material ripped more under the strain of her talons. In a heated whisper, "You gave him _nothing_."

Yuuri looked over her shoulder at the blond.

"Trouble, it can't be…"

Wolfram's skin was turning ashy and his white clothing, turning a soft grey. Yuuri's words were barely out of his mouth when the platform cracked slowly, spider webbing as it did so.

"Now, there's nothing left to do," she said, sobbing again, "but watch him die." Feeling weak, Tra'va leaned her head low and rested it on Yuuri. "I thought I'd give you that honor. That's why you're here."

"Die?" Onyx eyes wide, disbelieving. "No, it won't happen," he said with determination.

The double black could feel warm splatters fall on his shoulder, sinking into the fabric of his jacket and shirt.

"I hate you!" she thumped his chest. Her sobs were pathetic, like a child's.

"Hate you!" She struck him again. Yuuri placed a warm hand on the small of her back. He wasn't going to fight her on this because she was right about him—and had been all along.

"Hate!" She drove her hand into him with the fist doubled up.

The pain was more than he expected. He reeled.

* * *

Yuuri woke up with a start. The nightmarish world was gone. He took a shallow breath as he forced his eyes to focus. Wolfram was in his arms, a blond head rested against the curve of his neck. The two of them had, somehow, fallen from the raised dais and onto the floor with scattered pages from a book and broken pieces of wood. Yuuri was now sitting with his back against one of the battered pews. Wolfram was curled up in his lap, dead weight.

The double black could hear the sound of feet thundering, running to them from the far side of the room.

"Wait! Don't touch them!" Murata shouted. "Look!"

Yuuri's eyes began to focus more, and his palm moved instinctively to grasp Wolfram's shoulder—to keep him closer. His fingers dug into the material. Yuuri blinked at his own hand and noticed that his fingernails were now purple. His onyx eyes turned to something bright under his palm. _A…web…?_ Yuuri found himself and Wolfram wrapped in a fine web of silver strands stretched almost to the breaking point and a pulsing blue light radiating from their skin.

In his head, the double black could hear, _So, I'm inside of you now, huh?_

"Eh? Trouble?" Yuuri said nervously.

_Yup, there's three of us in this body. It kind of sucks though. Not enough room... And that Maou Spirit is glaring at me._

The double black put a hand to his aching head. Was this what Wolfram went through when he was first possessed? "I don't need this right now, Trouble…"

_Holy crap!_ she complained. _Do you have any idea how much junk you keep in this soul of yours? And that Maou Spirit has just as much! Damn, he's old._ Yuuri worried when he could hear things rattling around. There was an annoyed, pouting tone that went on with, _Clean up your soul, Yuuri. And start with how you feel about Wolfram. Of course, The Maou's got a head start on you there, but still…_

_Then, he's still alive? Wolfram! _Yuuri thought to himself and pulled the blond closer against himself.

_The Maou,_ Trouble said in his head, _is keeping him alive in your arms—even without fire magic. But, it's draining him. _

Yuuri could feel everyone staring at them, but did his best to focus on the situation at hand.

_So, look at the web. I didn't have to use one the last time because I wasn't this exhausted._

Onyx eyes did so.

_I'm going to give Wolfram his magic back, but I have to keep a pinch of it for myself. And you're going to pick me up and push my soul along the strands of the web until I reach the box with the bone in it. Got that?_

"Ummm…right…" Yuuri said out loud, nervous.

_And, Yuuri?_ She said darkly.

"Yes, Tra'va?"

_Don't screw this up!_

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dull green eyes opened and closed, then scrunched tightly. A blond head snuggled into a chest with a solid heartbeat. Wolfram groaned with complaint as his headache began to take a firmer grip across his brow. He rubbed his blond locks again against the fabric-covered chest, and felt a warm hand press against his left shoulder.

"Hold still."

"Eh?" He took a breath and let it out as a half-snore. "Don't give me that. I'm tired, Yuuri. Just let me sleep." He muttered the last sentence in the brattiest tone he could muster. That usually got him his way.

"Fine," the voice said in his ear, "but just don't move around a lot. I'm kind of busy at the moment." The hand stroked his shoulder again. "And thanks…for calling me 'Yuuri' again."

'_Yuuri?' Oh, hell… I should have called him 'heika." Wait… 'Busy'? What is the wimp talking about now?_ Wolfram opened his eyes again and squinted at Yuuri's profile. His face seemed to be in deep concentration. Yes, something was up and it would, obviously, need his attention, too, because Yuuri was so clueless.

The blond took a few more breaths and realized that his body was curled up in Yuuri's lap. His ex-fiancé had a death grip on his body—one hand on his shoulder, one at the hip. And, now that he could see what was going on, they were wrapped in some kind of silk thread with an iridescent purple orb sliding along it like an oversized bead.

"What are you doing?" Wolfram muttered, eyes half lidded from his headache.

"Sending Trouble to her new home."

Wolfram nodded. _Home…_ He frowned at the thought groggily. _But why couldn't I be her home?_

"Because this is where she belongs," Yuuri said with confidence. He gave the blond's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

_Wait! Did I just say that out loud?_ Wolfram's face heated up at his mistake. The last thing he wanted was for Yuuri to know what he was thinking. What if he said other things out loud and didn't know it? No, he couldn't fathom it. It was just too embarrassing.

"Almost there…"

Wolfram frowned again and wanted to give the wimp a good, solid thump. That last line was said with a bit too much enthusiasm. And, then… A bright burst of white light lit up the room. Yuuri pulled Wolfram against him protectively and turned his back to the second blinding flash that quickly followed—giving them, for the briefest of moments, long dark shadows on the floor. A purple orb surrounded the box, making it teeter briefly before knocking it off the shelf. The box smashed to the ground—tossing out the bone and the lock of fine, blond hairs which were quickly swept up by the growing orb of purple and black.

"Wolfram!" he gritted out. He dug his fingers in and tucked a golden head under his chin. Nothing was going to happen to Wolfram this time—if he had anything to say about it, that was. In spite of everything he'd been through, the limp figure in Yuuri's arms held onto him. Wolfram wasn't afraid, exactly, but he was concerned. His mind was still in a fog. He knew it. And it didn't help matters that his priority was to protect his king first and himself second. Stupid Yuuri was doing the exact opposite—again—causing more difficulties.

A third explosion, this one of purple and black, hurt everyone's ears and sent them to the floor. Together, Conrad and Yozak tackled Murata, sending him on his back with the two giant figures descending at the same rate. The hermit had eased his way out long before the first explosion. And Yuuri was firmly on top of Wolfram who let out a surprised "yelp" finding himself suddenly squeezed against the stone floor with a force that he was surprised that the wimp had to begin with. Jet black hair tore furiously in the gale. Wolfram squirmed and gave a muffled, "What, the hell, do you think you're doing? I should be the one on top!" He only stopped complaining when Yuuri shouted above the din, "Accept this before I order you to!" The thrashing and blowing sounds faded away quickly after that.

"Order him? Oh, I'd like to see that one," came a voice, both familiar and out of breath.

The winds died away entirely, taking a few book pages along for the ride.

Everyone in the room slowly looked up—including Murata, who was blushing furiously from where Conrad's hand had just been seconds ago. He readjusted his glasses and tried to look the very picture of a wise sage. He wanted to readjust his underwear, too, but that would have drawn attention.

"Hello, boys," Tra'va cooed at them. She stood there--practically naked with only her leathery wings wrapped around her body securely like a second skin. Long blond hair fell from her shoulders and pieces cascaded down her back to mid-calf. Trouble gave her head a quick shake and noticed the color change. "Oi, I'm a blond now! How cute!" She gave her head a kind of swish that Yuuri had seen in slow motion on shampoo commercials. Her red eyes sparkled with joy. She toyed with a strand. "I seem to be taller now, too, thanks to the bone."

Wolfram's jaw was on the floor. "You…have a body now?" Much to Yuuri's chagrin, his blond bishonen pushed him away a little and stood up. Like a man in the dark, he approached the fox spirit with his palms out stretched. Touching her hair and face, he realized that they were, in fact, genuine.

"You chose the bone and the lock of hair…remember?" Tra'va said cheerily. "So, for the next twenty years, I'll have a body of my own again…thanks to you…" She smirked a little at that. But then she thought about it a bit more and rested a finger to her lips. "But, you know, for a bone that came from a 'man,' I certainly merged with it easily enough. Kind of…weird…"

_That's because it was probably a woman's bone to begin with,_ Murata mused from behind his shiny glasses.

"Still," she said happily, "it was a good choice, Wolfram. I owe you."

The group approached the dais where Trouble was standing. Even the hermit ventured, if not somewhat timidly, back inside to see what was going on. He was more than surprised to see the fox of his dreams—or maybe, of his annoying nightmares—standing at the front of the shrine.

"And…I guess…this is…goodbye," Tra'va said with a thin smile. "Though, I must say that this was the most difficult journey that I've ever had. So, I'll remember you all…long after your children's children become elderly."

"Ah, more children for me, huh?" Murata said, amused. He scratched the side of his nose in thought and remembered, briefly, his first born child all of those eons ago. Twenty hours of labor just to expel a scrawny, crabby little boy with a scrunched up face and lungs like a banshee really sucked. _Then again,_ Murata thought, _he really did grow into a fine man and history would come to appreciate the achievements of Alexander von Voltaire. _

She smiled at him deviously. "Of course…especially you," the fox spirit laughed back. "I saw it in your eyes the moment I met you. Your wife in this life will certainly have her hands full."

Yozak laughed a little at that. "Any clues as to who she is so that we will know who to look out for?"

Murata said with mirth, "If I knew that, I'd probably run and hide." He rested his hands on his hips boyishly. "Besides, flying foxes can't see the future."

"True, but _spirits_ can—_sometimes_. And I'm a fox _spirit_." She gave him a toothy grin and enjoyed the brief look of panic on Murata's face.

Trouble ran her fingers through her long blond hair thoughtfully. "He's met her already…knows her… But she's not ready to be his wife just yet…not anybody's wife…yet…" Tra'va chuckled inwardly at the double image of Greta in her head—the child and the young woman to-be. _She's not old enough now. But give her ten years to mature…and to understand her own fate with the sage… And, in some ways, thanks to Anissina, she'll be much more insightful than the sage himself. _"He will be the intellect" Tra'va said, pointing to a wide-eyed Murata "and she will be the heart." Then, the fox spirit smiled."Of course, until that time, Murata Ken can certainly 'play' while he awaits his better half."

Trouble smiled deviously at the thought.

Murata raised a suspicious eyebrow and told his heart to quit thumping so hard. Someone might be able to hear it.

"But, as I said before, I suppose I have to say farewell." Trouble hopped down from the dais—much to the frowning of the hermit who thought this irreverent. She saw the look on his face and winked. She let the leathery wings slip a little lower to expose her chubby breasts. He blushed and she knew in an instant that he'd be a total pushover.

With a respectful and profound bow to Conrad, she said, "Thank you for tolerating me. I caused you anxiety, vexation, and tribulation. And each and every time, you returned it with kindness_." And you do look so much like my father…not that I could ever tell you that. But, just seeing that face one last time was enough...even if something goes wrong in the future and I never make it to the heavenly realm. _

Her head turned to Yozak and she practically skipped to him. "Yozak!" she gushed as she landed in his arms. He held her bridal style—to which Conrad cocked his head slightly. Trouble wrapped her arms around the orange haired spy and said, "Am I a cute blond or what?" She giggled at him.

"Absolutely beautiful." His voice was warm, kind. She drank up the sound of it one last time.

"You know, you've got the right coloring, too. You'd make a great blond."

"I've got a wig back at the castle. I wore it last month while under cover."

She laughed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I wish I could have seen that. Did it come with a dress?"

"Of course."

"Low cut…? But surely not…" She stroked his chest with a single finger in a pattern that felt a little too good to Yozak. She always had a way of doing that to him. He swallowed hard. Yozak continued, "Believe it or not, I can be quite convincing in the cleavage department."

Trouble nodded and he put her back on her feet. "You know, I believe you." She tilted her head up at him.

The spirit then turned to Murata. "I guess, I've got to say 'goodbye' to you, too—my daytime husband." She approached Murata and gave him a hug that plastered her whole body against him. Murata did his best to keep his features composed before the group, but several evil, amorous, and very skillful parts of him had other ideas and were conjuring them up before his eyes.

Trouble's arms wrapped around his shoulders and she leaned into his ear and whispered, "Ditch that possessive Shinou for a night and come see me."

"Here?" He hummed it back casually. _Surely, not._

She snuggled into his face and whispered, "Next full moon, I can journey a little ways from here…say…the town inn at 8 PM?"

She pulled away with a seemingly respectful nod. Onyx eyes had a lustful "yes" to them.

Tra'va straightened her shoulders and placed her hands behind her back before saying the name "Yuuri." He glanced at her—his dark eyes innocent. The fox spirit set her face into one that seemed to say "Okay, buddy, it's your turn." She took a few steps in his direction and shrugged. "You know, Yuuri, I suppose…you're not so bad after all."

It didn't exactly sound like a ringing endorsement. But, he'd had worse during negotiations with other countries, especially the human ones.

Tra'va looked at him sincerely. "You saved Wolfram and…" Her mouth pruned up but she had to say it. "…And you saved me, too…" It had to be dumb luck. She rolled her eyes inwardly. "So…for that… Umm….Thanks, I guess…"

Behind her, Tra'va could hear a laugh. It was a strange sound and everyone turned. The laugh was Wolfram's. It suddenly occurred to Yuuri—as it did to them all as the seconds ticked on—that Wolfram rarely laughed anymore. Even the last few months, it was a sound that they'd not heard. Worse yet, they had never even missed it, but simply accepted that Wolfram didn't do it.

The laugh was a gift to her, truly. Trouble's face melted into a smile with a little fang hanging out. "I have to say 'bye' to you as well, Wolfram… Don't I…?" Her voice was kind and sad with an ethereal quality that came out of dreams. She turned around and looked into his face.

Yuuri's eyes widened when he saw Wolfram reach a hand out for her. It was like something out of the fairytales that he read to Greta. The handsome prince would extend his hand out—confidently, majestically—to the long haired damsel, who would take it and allow him to slowly draw her to him.

Tra'va certainly allowed Wolfram to do that.

The next thing Yuuri saw was Wolfram putting his pale hands on the woman's face, cupping her sharp features and staring into her eyes. Deep inside of him, Yuuri could feel The Maou struggling. He was not pleased at all with this farewell. And Yuuri found it hard to disagree with him. Feelings akin to imbalance, isolation, and abandonment were starting to surface. Yuuri told himself that he was sensing The Maou's emotions and that lying to himself at this moment was perfectly okay.

"Goodbye," Wolfram said, searching her face for something only the two of them understood. There were no blushes. No hesitations. Wolfram didn't worry that he would be rejected or that his touch would be unwelcome in any particular way. His profile was strong, confident, determined, and intimate—the very image of Shinou with the dramatic and passionate eyes that held a lover spellbound.

Then, he closed his eyes and kissed her.

Before Wolfram knew it, his arms were around Tra'va's shoulders and he was tugging her closer to him. Her arms were around him, palms of her hands pressed against his back.

Neither one cared that they were being watched. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing. It was natural.

"I'm jealous," Murata murmured loud enough for Yuuri to hear. His onyx eyes cut sneakily to one side to see Yuuri's reaction.

He got a disapproving "Hm" in return.

_Oh, this could be fun…_ The sage held back a smirk and pressed on. "I didn't get a 'goodbye kiss.' Too bad, huh?" He glanced again and was pleased to see the double black's mouth turning down into a frown. Further, his hands were clinched into fists.

"Do you think he loves her?" Yuuri whispered.

Murata lost his glee at the question and readjusted his glasses with a finger. With his voice down low, he answered. "Yeah, probably…but he can't have her. It's the same story for him all over again. He can't have the person he's become bonded to."

Yuuri gave Murata a direct look, concerned. He didn't like the sage's implications. He felt that things were different now between himself and Wolfram.

The sage shrugged. "From his view point, he's alone again. And, worse yet, he's going back to the castle, back into the pubic eye, worse off than when he left."

Murata and Yuuri looked away to see Wolfram hugging Tra'va closely to him. The two blonds rested their foreheads together.

To Yuuri, Wolfram certainly looked every inch the man who was saying a brave "goodbye" to someone he cared for—maybe, even, loved. And, for the briefest second, the double black wondered what kind of farewell Wolfram would have given him, during those brief trips apart, had he been given the chance—or maybe "confidence" in their relationship. No, Yuuri shook his head at that because he knew better. Had Wolfram tried any of this even a week earlier, he would have been shoved away by a very red faced, embarrassed, heart-beating-hard, "Yuuri" who had a serious girlfriend back on Earth.

Murata glanced at Yuuri again. "If you want my advice about your _ex-fiancé_, I would suggest you begin by talking to The Maou. Ask if he'll negotiate something between you and Wolfram—if the king desires it, of course." The sage was no fool. He knew that The Demon King was watching behind Yuuri's eyes. He went on, "I think The Maou's intentions toward von Bielefeld are honorable, and I foresee the exchange of rings…or the like…" He finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

Yuuri's eyes widened. _He'd guessed that much!_ _But how?_

"Just imagine the two of them without you in the picture…"

Yuuri blanched.

"Well, if he doesn't succeed," the sage mused, "it's going to make the honeymoon really awkward."

* * *

They began to make their journey homeward. Yuuri struggled with Morgif again. The sword was moaning and enjoying the fresh air, which he got very little of in the Treasure Room back at Blood Pledge Castle. The sword got the crazy notion that if he let Yuuri know just how much he enjoyed being outside, then he'd actually get to be outside more often—maybe with more sword practice with Conrad or Wolfram or something. Thus, the unbelievably loud, exaggerated, moans and groans. Yuuri felt embarrassment heat up his cheeks as he wrapped up the sword in a piece of cloth that he had in his saddlebag just for occasions like this one. The double black muttered darkly as he worked. Why couldn't he have a cool sword that was bright and shiny? Why couldn't he have a "singing" sword like out of Greta's fairytales? But, no. He had to have a demon sword with a personality attached to it that's sole form of communication was a series of mortifying moans!

"No thanks," Yuuri griped.

Morgif moaned.

"Hush!"

More moaning.

A cow stared at them.

"You're causing trouble and attracting attention." _Even if we are in the middle of nowhere. But, still…!_

Another moan, this one of protest, as the cloth covered his mouth. Fingers "accidentally" stuffed some cloth in like a gag.

The sword rattled in annoyance.

"And, Morgif?"

"Moan?"

"If you don't stop moaning, I'm going to tell the maids to stop dusting in the Treasure Room. And I'll let the dust bunnies attack you while you sleep."

Morgif didn't utter another word for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The clomping of horses on the hard road was starting to get on Wolfram's last nerve. He gritted his teeth together and decided to accept that the noise wasn't going to get any better. In fact, he had hours and hours of it ahead of him.

The blond looked back the way they'd come—again—for the hundredth time. Murata didn't miss it, doing his best to "keep an eye" on Wolfram without officially "keeping an eye" on him. The ex-prince's face was clouded with conflicting emotions. And he understood why.

"She'll be okay," the sage said, pulling his horse up to be closer to Wolfram's. "And you can visit her again, if you like. She said that, remember?"

Wolfram's waxy green eyes stared at him as a challenge for a second. Throwing in his two cents' worth when it was not welcomed… But, then Wolfram decided to let it pass. He didn't care if the sage saw him as weak or not. It didn't matter. Then, he blinked. _Then…what does matter?_ The blond didn't know anymore. Almost instinctively, he called to Tra'va in his mind. There was no answer. And he felt foolish for doing it. But it had become a habit of talking to her when he felt confused or lonely. Right now, he was both. He wanted to hear her laugh at him, call him "idiot," and demand that Yuuri get a swift kick in the ass with an armored boot. Wolfram smirked a little at that last thought.

The white steed trotted after the rest. Conrad was leading the way. Yuuri was next to him. Murata, who decided that Wolfram's long silence was a request to be left alone again, urged his horse forward to chat some more with Yuuri. And, behind Wolfram, Yozak was following up the rear. His sky blue eyes searched the trees casually for possible attackers or robbers. But, everything seemed quite calm.

"And the road stretches on… Now, I'm tied to this ground…" Wolfram's voice sang under his breath.

Yozak's head turned slightly at the sound of Wolfram's voice. It wasn't like Wolfram to sing to pass the time. It was, however, very much like Tra'va to do so.

"What nature hands me is my work," the blond continued, "and I'm forever homeward bound." Wolfram hummed the rest quietly with eyes partially closed.

The song. She had left him with the song. As he concentrated on it, Wolfram could see an impish little girl with long, braided red hair tied back with a green ribbon. Her little bat wings flapped excitedly as she sat on Conrad's—no, not Conrad, but her father—yes, her father's knee. There was a heavy canvas sack full of fruit beside them. A pear. And her father took a bite out of one side and offered her a taste of it. She took a huge bite and chomped happily as her father sang the song to her. It was something they'd sing together—just the two of them. Their song about the orchard, their tie to the land, and the hope of a never ending, bountiful harvest. But, the song had been dead for centuries. And the little girl no longer existed.

_I miss you_, Wolfram thought. He looked up ahead and noticed Murata, Yuuri, and Conrad all chatting excitedly. They were heading back to the castle. They were going home. Wolfram sighed to himself. _Home…_ Thanks to Tra'va, he now had a sense of what that was. But Wolfram wasn't sure that he _had_ one or even _wanted_ one anymore.

Now that he wasn't engaged to Yuuri anymore, he had a lot of choices ahead of him. Wolfram tried to think of it like that. He didn't want to focus on his loss of status as fiancé to The Demon King, or how his family in the von Bielefeld territory would be embarrassed and lose social status from his "failure to marry." They would, of course, work doubly hard to find him a substitute and give him a beautiful, albeit very quick and private wedding, to get him settled and out of circulation in the upper realm of the social circles. Wolfram decided that he'd fight them every step of the way—even if it meant being disinherited.

No more loveless engagements. There would be no negotiations on that one.

Wolfram wanted to choose his own path and pick his own life—living on his terms. Greta would be a priority. Human children grew up too fast. He could see a day when she would look twice as old as he was. Still, he was her father and would insist on being a part of her life. Wolfram also didn't dismiss the idea of having children of his own. Just how, whether by adoption or by a consort, he didn't know. But he liked the idea of Greta having siblings. The blond also decided that being with The Maou might not be so bad after all if they could keep their relationship as quiet as possible. He might have to bribe some of the maids to keep their mouths shut or hire his own staff who could be discrete… Either way, the next step would be moving the last of this things from Yuuri's bedroom. So, he'd begin with that.

In his heart, he called for Tra'va again and was met with silence. Wolfram cursed himself. He just kept on doing it. Why couldn't he stop?

Wolfram frowned and shook his head at himself for being so stupid. He'd always called Yuuri "the wimp," but he was, at the moment, both an ex-fiancé and _King of the Wimps_. He briefly imagined Yuuri bowing down to him. Then, Wolfram screwed up his face again and brushed the thought away.

Yozak watched Wolfram casually. A part of him knew that Wolfram was suffering and needed someone. His eyes flicked to Murata—who was laughing too loudly at a joke that Conrad had told badly, without a punch line.

Wolfram watched Murata, too, but had a slight smile when he did it. Someone was happy. Even if it wasn't him, that was okay. Then, he dropped the smile. Wolfram had to be honest with himself. He was miserable without the spirit within him. He raked his fingers through his blond hair. Up until today, he had another life living inside of him. It depended on him to survive and gave him company. It could feel his thoughts and his actions. It was a part of him. And that life loved him unconditionally—wanting to give him as little pain as possible. Wolfram sighed. Yes, he loved Tra'va, too. But he also knew, deep down, that he was not _in love_ with her. He knew what "in love" felt like. And he wasn't sure if he had the taste for that anymore, either.

Yuuri turned around in the saddle and stared at the blond behind him.

Wolfram seemed tired and miserable. His body rocked in the saddle slightly with each step and his hands held the reins loosely. The green eyes were still the wrong shade, dark circles were under his eyes, and, added to the frustrations, he still had bruises coming up even though he'd been healed a couple of times. The blond's borrowed clothes were shabby and torn like a battlefield flag. Yet, despite that, Wolfram von Bielefeld still had the aura of a handsome prince.

"Wolfram, are you okay?" he called behind him.

The blond slightly colored at the sudden attention he was getting. _Not again!_ He crossed his arms with a pout and looked away. "I'm fine," he said with an edge to it, willing it and being determined for everyone to just accept it and to go on with their lives.

Conrad and Yozak locked eyes again with the message, _He's lying._

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It was too warm—again. He wiped the sweat from his brow and prayed for a breeze that he was certain would never come. But, turning his head a little to observe the ones around him, he was certain that he wasn't the only one with that same wish.

Yes, it was hot. But, maybe, it wasn't the heat getting to him after all. He'd been through much worse during his basic training decades ago. But, at that time, he was simply too busy to feel anything. He was taught to act and react to danger, to accept protocol without question because it kept everyone informed, and to look upon "routine" as "normalcy."

He felt it again. It was a hollow echo inside—a kind of ringing noise with no physical sound. That, he told himself, was becoming annoying.

Wolfram noticed the local village and that the road was swinging closer to the edge of it. The blond lowered his head. He knew what he looked like—not the prince in the nice clothes, not the handsome young man with the grace and features to attract to him anyone he wished. His eyes glanced to "Yuuri the Clueless" who had given him very little attention on the way back.

_If my looks are taken away… if I'm not handsome… Then, what do I have left…? _

"Heika! Heika!" Two girls squealed.

Their little group stopped before two young ladies standing by the side of the road with the quaint village as a backdrop behind them. They were both cute and blond, one slightly older than the other, and very _buxom_—a bit heavy for their frames, which made them seem like very "healthy" young ladies in Murata's opinion. He readjusted his glasses to get a better view of them.

The well dressed ladies, in almost identical green dresses, looked up adoringly with honey-colored eyes.

"King Yuuri," they both said and did a fine curtsey in unison—with scooped necklines that showed off their jiggling charms to the riders. "I'm Anna and this is my younger sister, Jeanette."

"You're the mayor's daughters," Murata said, recognizing them.

Both girls turned and grinned brightly. They'd met the sage before in the square and had shown great interest in his adventures. "Hello again," Jeanette said, cocking her head proudly to one side. "We thought we would greet Heika with these flowers. Hopefully, he will accept them."

Anna held up a large bouquet of ten red roses with two orange rosebuds set in the center tied together with black ribbons cascading down.

Shocked, Conrad stared with his mouth hanging open and, at the rear, Yozak did exactly the same. It was unexpected and, in a nightmarish way, things seemed to move in slow motion. Murata, seeing Yuuri reach his hand down to take the bouquet, rode his horse in between them and snatched up the flowers instead. "I'm sorry," he said diplomatically, "Yuuri Heika doesn't like the color _orange_. Next time, I would suggest yellow roses." He handed the bouquet back to the girls. The sage turned to the person stopped behind him and said, "Isn't that right, Lord von Bielefeld?"

In unison, both girls gasped and placed their hands over their mouths. They looked at him without totally taking in his expression. Wolfram's clothes were ripped, his hair windblown, and his face filthy. He seemed to be a cruel kind of handsome, fresh from a fight, but empty somehow.

"We're sorry!" Anna said, "We didn't…recognize you…and…you know, we heard that…"

Everyone looked to Wolfram. It was the jealousy and the verbal explosion of "Cheater!" in Yuuri's direction that they were expecting. Possibly a fireball or two would be hurled, or even a fire lion. Fire. Brimstone. Even Yuuri cringed, waiting. When nothing happened, the double black looked to his ex-fiancé who stared out at the field, seemingly bored and uncaring.

An awkward silence followed.

"It's nothing," Murata said cheerfully, trying to cover the uncomfortable gap. "Don't worry about it. No harm done." He smiled winningly. "But, we've just returned from an adventure—maybe, I'll tell you two about it the next time we meet—and, at the moment, we're all exhausted." He gave his raven hair a tussle.

The girls nodded helplessly and backed away, glad in their hearts that the only thing that they had done was make fools of themselves.

Conrad, relieved, gave his reins a flick and off they went with a very confused Yuuri in tow.

_What just happened? _Something did, obviously. He could feel it.

"Geez, Murata…that was rude," he grumbled under his breath once they got far enough down the road.

The sage rolled his eyes and said quietly, "Do you ever pay attention to anything Günter teaches you about protocol, customs, or symbolism?"

"What do you mean?"

Murata gave a huffy, impatient groan and cut his eyes behind him at Wolfram to make sure he wasn't listening in. Luckily, the blond was staring off into space again. It was a hollow look that deeply worried Murata.

"The bouquet was red—a symbol of passion. You know, _koi?_ And the two clashing orange roses in the center represented Anna and Jeanette."

Yuuri still didn't understand and his innocent, onyx eyes spoke of that.

"In this world, orange roses are the traditional symbols for concubines. The girls were offering themselves to you." He gave a quick glare when Yuuri's face drained of color. "Their father, of course, would want compensation—a significant amount of money—and the girls would move into a far part of the castle because they can't mix openly with the royal family. But, at night, you…could…"

Yuuri raised a hand that told Murata to stop. But it didn't work. He went on anyway. "So, I got in the way and told the girls that 'yellow'—the color for friendship—would be better. And if that's 'rude' in your opinion…"

"No…no… You're right…" he gritted out.

Murata glanced back at Wolfram again. "Word about your engagement ending has, obviously, spread. And there will be those who will take advantage if they can. The only reason why no one has even offered themselves as a concubine in the past was because a certain blond, fire wielding fiancé of yours was notoriously jealous."

Yuuri felt sick inside. "But to offer…in front of …everyone…" He made a face.

"They wanted to be first," Murata theorized. "Besides, the bouquet is considered an elegant way to make such a proposal."

The double black stared, shocked, in front of him. "Oh, no! Wolfram saw this." He fought the urge to look back.

Murata looked down at his reins. "He didn't seem surprised."

Yuuri cringed and let his head fall back. "I really should apologize for being stupid, huh?"

Murata looked at Yuuri, forcing himself not to dope-slap his friend. "I'm not even sure that would work anymore."

"Why?" Then, he turned to glance behind him. Wolfram was watching the scenery go by, seemingly uncaring about anything or anyone. There was something ghostly about him now.

"Think about it," the sage said. "No screaming or fireballs over the bouquet…" Murata locked eyes with Yuuri. "That's not a good sign of him being back to normal. Physically, he's a mess. Emotionally, he's alone."

Yuuri shook his head worriedly at that. "But, he's not alone, Murata. And, this whole time, he just hasn't said much."

"This whole trip back, you haven't said much to him, either. You didn't spend time with him…or ride next to him." Murata's mouth slowly frowned as he spoke. "And it's the rest of us who've been looking out for von Bielefeld…in our own way."

Yuuri shrugged. "I'm trying to give Wolfram some space…and some… _time_…to think."

"Maybe," Murata said and pushed his glasses up his nose a bit, "or, maybe the closer we get to the castle, the easier it will be to go back to 'business as usual.' Ever think of that?"

* * *

_I wonder why I go through these things? In the military, we put ourselves through Hell and back to toughen ourselves up…so that we don't crack under pressure. If we fall apart, we're no good to anybody. "Crazy" makes you dead pretty quickly. And a dead soldier is useless to the maou._

Wolfram's faded green eyes looked at the back of Yuuri's head. For some reason, he'd just tilted it all the way backwards, and it seemed that Murata was fussing at him in a harsh whisper about something. Wolfram gave a mental shrug to it and decided that it was none of his business.

_From now on, I suppose, things will be different. And I don't really need someone's love in order to be a good person…a good father…a good soldier… Maybe, from all of this, I can make myself stronger and more independent. At least, I hope so _He glanced at the double black again.._ But I know that Yuuri can still hurt me. _

Wolfram's mind flashed to the roses—red and orange. He could see the double black reaching his hand out to take the bouquet. Then, the hand became a palm with a love note, written in purple ink, lying in the middle of it.

_Maybe, it would have been for the best if Murata had let Yuuri take it. Obviously, stupid Yuuri didn't know what it meant. Still, it would have been fun to see his face when the girls showed up at the castle with their luggage._ Then, Wolfram found himself surprised. He didn't feel jealous over the scenario, just slightly amused.

The scenery passed by very slowly. Blood Pledge Castle was in the distance, waiting for them. The castle walls were outstretched arms in the late afternoon sun.

Wolfram cut his eyes to the right. He knew this patch of field pretty well. Based on the scorch marks left over from last month's "flames and swords" practice, which was a total success in his mind, the practice field was a testament to the awesome power of his own private guard. The thought made Wolfram smile as did the sight of the blue clad figures far off in the distance.

There was something about the fellowship and camaraderie of his private guard that gave him a sense of "place"—of "accomplishment."

Wolfram had insisted upon forming his elite group long before Yuuri had come to Shin Makoku. It took some convincing and a ton of reports to show the actual need for such a military group—which impressed Gwendal, not that he would have admitted it. And, once given the chance, Wolfram turned what had been a fluffy little assignment to distract a spoiled prince into one of the most polished and respected guards in the country's history. The only down side to it, in Wolfram's opinion, was the irritating fact that his men's loyalty seemed to be tied to their _desire_ for him. Inwardly, he shivered at the thought of seeing a commanding officer in that light. All his life, his commanders were either blood relatives or hairy, battle-weary old men.

He stopped his horse and stared at them. Yes, those were his men. A part of Wolfram longed to join them.

When Wolfram halted, the others in his party did, too.

"Is there a problem?" Yuuri asked with concern, turning in his saddle. He stared at Wolfram's profile and saw the distant look in his eyes. He followed the stare.

Apparently, the soldiers saw them, too. And there was a mad dash from the practice area to the road where they were now loitering.

"Lord von Bielefeld!" the men shouted, voices drowning out each other as they ran. A few waved before taking off in his direction.

Wolfram smiled a little at that. It felt good to know that they missed him.

At the head of the pack was Logan Adler—with his watery blue-grey eyes and lithe build. Apparently, being the youngest of the group, and being the most agile was an advantage (as in this case) as he weaved his way around a few of his comrades. And he knew the others would eventually give him hell for being first. Logan kept up an even pace and continued to out distance the others. Only when he was within three meters of his commanding officer did the thought strike him that he should slow down. He almost slid to a stop but had his head turned up high to take in the brilliant sight of Lord von Bielefeld.

Wolfram noticed Logan's devilish grin fade away into something akin to disbelief. He looked up at the blond on the horse as though he barely knew the young man, eyes searching for something familiar he could latch onto.

It hurt. He pretended it didn't. "Is there a problem?" Wolfram said with a commanding tone.

"No…no sir!" Logan said with a profound bow. Staring at the ground was much easier now than looking at Wolfram. He exaggerated his breathing, too, to make it appear he was much more tired than he actually was.

The other men caught up to him, joking and laughing—some slapping others on the back—until they got a good look at Wolfram, too.

It was the same reaction.

Some of the stares were akin to shock. Some merely allowed their jaws to hang down. The veterans, though, seemed to understand—even though they didn't like what they were seeing—and made vague nods. But all of them spoke of worry with their expressions.

Guessing the reason why, Conrad said, "Wolfram, you might want to have your men fall in with us. We can all go back to the castle together. It's unbearably hot…even with the sun setting. The day is practically over anyway."

Wolfram gave a curt nod to that and motioned for the men to get their horses.

As the group of blue uniforms made their way back to their steeds, Yuuri wondered if this was going to be a crushing blow to Wolfram. The blond took great pride in his appearance; and his men, as everyone knew so well, were so enamored with him.

Yuuri wanted to say something encouraging. But, he just didn't know what. More to the point, he didn't know what Wolfram would say in return.

The blond sighed to himself and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his left ear. He was so numb, from the loss of Tra'va, he didn't care what anyone thought at the moment. What he wanted more than anything was to be alone. But logic dictated that he would not have that—not for awhile—and that there was more to come.

He would endure it, as always.

* * *

They were nearing home. Yuuri dropped back a little in the group to speak with Wolfram. He felt that it was about time that he did. The blond, on the other hand, shook his head "no" and slowed his white steed down even more.

The double black raised a twitchy eyebrow at that. He didn't like being avoided so childishly. "Wolfram, we need to talk."

"It would probably be best to do that later," Wolfram said, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Come on," the double black persisted, doing his level best to sound like the mature one in the conversation, "could you at least ride next to me?" _Then, maybe, I can get a word in._

The dull green eyes gave an insulted glare. Wolfram's mouth frowned. "We're nearing the castle. You have to be the lead horse because you're the king. I have to follow behind the sage."

"Eh? Why?" Yuuri scratched his head. "You always ride next to me."

The sudden silence was uncomfortable. Even Wolfram's men had stopped chatting amongst themselves.

"That was back when you were engaged to Wolfram," Conrad said quietly at Yuuri's other side. "And I'm here as your personal guard and godfather."

"Oh…I see…"

_No, he doesn't see._ Murata smacked his hand over his face.

The silence continued as the group entered the castle grounds and Wolfram stiffened as he did so. Yuuri noticed the firm jaw and the posture in the saddle that showed style and sophistication even if his clothes were little more than shreds of cloth.

Passersby stared.

Wolfram kept going. He reminded himself that riding practically naked, which was how he saw himself at the moment, wasn't his idea at all—and that he just wanted to get back to the castle, out of the clothes, and into a steaming hot bath. That would be his reward for going through this.

The blond decided to make his way for the stables but saw the imposing image of his brother, Gwendal, far off in the distance—beckoning to their group. Wolfram lowered his head in defeat.

_Well, I suppose…I'd better get this over with_. He couldn't stop grinding his teeth as his horse clomped along with the others. Dread was building. And some part of him wondered just how bad it was going to be.

"Heika," Gwendal said, addressing Yuuri first because he was both "king" and at the front of the group. His eyes narrowed when his ears caught a "Yuurish" whispering sound in Conrad's direction that seemed to come to his own ears as the words "Just act normally!" But, surely, Gwendal decided, he was mistaken. Nevertheless, the administrator raised a stern eyebrow. No tomfoolery here. He wouldn't allow it.

"I would like to be informed of…" Gwendal went on evenly as he scanned the riders. Then, his indigo eyes widened in shock.

"What…THE HELL?!" he roared. Some of Gwendal's magic leaked from him in his moment of fury and the ground shook. It spooked the horses, which whinnied and stomped in fright. Wolfram's white steed bucked and he had to struggle to regain control.

"Gwendal!" Wolfram complained bitterly, "Could you _not_ shake everything?!"

The well chiseled face was set with clinched teeth and a squinted glare. Lord Gwendal von Voltaire, Commander of the Demon Army and Chief Administrator of Shin Makoku, was clearly not pleased. In fact, he was pissed off beyond measure. Wolfram, his cute baby brother, was before him--dressed in filthy, ragged clothing that looked like he'd been rolling around in the dirt. His hair was no longer the sunny blond color it had been all his life. It was a kind of blond, yes, but it had thick strands of a "wheat" color in it. The deep circles under the eyes spoke of hardship and a lack of sleep. The frame was skinny. But, what worried him the most was the color of Wolfram's eyes. They were wrong—totally wrong! A dark, waxy green shade.

"Get down from there, Wolfram," Gwendal ordered, pointing a finger towards the ground.

Wolfram's face fell at that. He hated it when his brother acted like that in public. It was embarrassing and people would think he's a child—a weakling. In fact, neither one of them would never treat Greta that way, and she actually _was a child_.

Wolfram lowered his head stubbornly with fists clinched at his sides. Yuuri felt sorry for him. He knew only too well what his own brother, Shori, would be like in such circumstances.

"Do it!" Gwendal growled dangerously.

Wolfram forced himself to unball his fists. He needed to let go of the anger and be a good role model to his men. "Look, I know that I'm a real fright right now, but…"

"Down now OR IT'S INSUBORDINATION!" Gwendal roared. And when Wolfram's shocked expression was the only movement he made, the oldest brother grabbed a thin wrist and pulled the unnaturally lean body down from the horse.

Yuuri couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Gwendal? Don't you think that…?"

Gwendal shot a heated glare at the king which shut him up immediately. The older man also placed a firm hand on the back of Wolfram's collar, practically steering him closer for inspection.

"What, the hell, happened to you?" It wasn't a question, really. The indigo eyes ran up and down Wolfram's body. The blond looked away, mortified. People were gawking—many, his own men. "And just who do I hold responsible for this…?! This…!" He gestured to Wolfram, eyes wide and incredulous.

Gwendal stared at the group. The private guard, many of whom had gotten down quietly from their horses in all the fuss and were eyeing the spectacle, crossed their arms and allowed their gazes to land on Yuuri.

The double black could see it—the accusing eyes, the angry or resentful stares. "Well, I…um…" He had to stop himself from muttering, but didn't know quite how.

That snapped Gwendal out of his fury-trance. "Everyone go about your business," he ordered with a dismissive wave. The soldiers made their way, slowly, to the stables—hoping to eavesdrop a bit. The servants moved on, too, in the same way and with the same hopes. Then, Gwendal turned to Yuuri with the coldest expression he could muster. Yuuri found himself shrinking back at it. "Heika," he said stiffly, "Wolfram's health is, of course, a family matter. Please excuse us." He fisted what was left of Wolfram's collar and steered the young man into the castle, the exact location being the privacy of his office. Over his shoulder Gwendal called, "You too, Conrad. I want to know if that _thing_ is still possessing our brother!"

"Her name is 'Tra'va,' and she's not a _thing_," Wolfram yelled at the walls, which echoed and announced his homecoming.

"You're being _difficult_, Wolfram!" Gwendal's voice followed-up.

With an apologetic smile in Yuuri's direction, Conrad handed the reins of his horse to one of the stable boys and walked slowly into the castle, smoothing out his uniform as he did so.

Yuuri pretended to stretch his legs a little as he handed the reins of his horse over, too. He felt guilty for what just happened. And he could just imagine what Wolfram was going through, being interrogated by his older brother all the while exhaustion was eating at him. A part of Yuuri longed to be in that meeting, too. He wanted to be with Wolfram and to help somehow.

Before Yuuri knew it, he was standing with the sage—just the two of them, alone.

"I know what you're going to say, Murata," Yuuri mumbled. Fingers combed back raven hair.

Glasses shined when light fell on the lenses. He gave a shrug and decided to say the words anyway. "Boy, your day keeps getting better and better…huh, Shibuya?" Murata said cheekily.

"That wasn't what I thought you'd say." A frown followed.

"Yes, but that's what you needed to hear," Murata said, "and it's high time I started to do my job again…as the sage."

* * *

"Just look at him!" Gwendal fumed. He touched Wolfram's face with his index finger and smudged it the way a mother-in-law inspects for dust.

"I'm fine, brother," Wolfram growled under his breath. He started to stand up and Gwendal pushed him backwards into the chair with two fingers against his chest.

The legs of the chair scraped against the floor.

"I think Wolfram is telling the truth," Conrad chimed in, trying to steady the back of the chair and to keep it from falling over. "With a little time, some rest, and his uniform back…he'll look like the Wolfram we all know…" Conrad was about to add "and love" but was silenced by an upward glare from Wolfram. This was not a time for sentimentalities.

Gwendal sat down on the edge of his desk and folded his arms against his chest. "It's more than just what he looks like—which, by the way, will be whispered and gossiped about all over the kingdom by sunrise tomorrow. Have you both forgotten that the engagement to our king has been called off?"

Wolfram nodded sadly and Conrad sighed to himself. Yes, they were back to the reality of castle life.

Gwendal reached behind him saying, "There are ramifications and this is the start."

Letters began to fall—sliding from Gwendal's hands and landing in Wolfram's lap.

"What are these?" Wolfram said, his mouth going dry because he already knew.

"Letters of…_interest_," Gwendal said tartly. "And I opened those two before I realized that they were meant for you." He motioned to the top two letters. "They're from Mother. Apparently, word of your breakup has reached her on her 'free love' cruise. Now, she's getting more attention than ever from people who want the latest gossip from her. There's three letters from your Uncle Waltorana. Care to guess why?" That last sentence had an acid edge. It was well known that what Waltorana wanted for Wolfram and what Gwendal wanted were two different things.

Wolfram nodded and frowned.

"But, if Wolfram and Yuuri don't want to marry…?" Conrad said, trying to be hopeful about the situation. He was certain that, either way, he'd still have the two young men with him at the castle. He didn't want to lose his family. And Yuuri was as close as a brother to him.

"Would you stop favoring the heika for once," Gwendal growled under his voice.

"Sorry?" Conrad said. He really hadn't heard him, but Wolfram did.

"Let's just quit arguing," Wolfram said, standing up. He looked at the armful of letters. He hadn't seen so many since before his relationship with Tasha. Wolfram walked across the room. "I just…don't want to hear it. I don't want to argue anymore. I'm done with it."

Wolfram tossed the letters into the fireplace. He cupped his hands together and spat a spark into them.

"Wolfram!" Gwendal barked. "That's crude!"

The blond winked at him as he tossed a small, marble sized fireball into the fireplace and it immediately blazed into life. The unopened letters curled with brittle, black edges. Within seconds, they crumpled in upon themselves in the warmth of yellow-orange fire.

"It's a trick I learned," Wolfram mused. "You see, you don't actually 'spit a spark.' You just look like you can do it. Pucker, form a flame in front of your face, and make it fall into your hands." He chuckled at Tra'va's favorite trick. "Then, people believe that you can actually breathe fire and not just wield it."

Gwendal changed the subject. "It still doesn't alter the fact that those rags are practically hanging on your body…not to mention your skin." He approached Wolfram and gripped his shoulder. "I can feel the bones."

Wolfram shrugged the hand off. There was no counterargument to that. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, head down. "I know my looks matter to you."

Conrad could see where this was going. They'd had this discussion before. "We want you _healthy_, Wolfram."

The blond nodded back, not convinced in the slightest.

"And that's why I'm reassigning you." Gwendal said, circling around to his desk and taking a seat.

Conrad's eyes widened at that.

"You heard me."

"What?!" Wolfram growled. He stormed in the direction of his brother, slapped his palms down on the desk, and leaned over threateningly—now eye to eye. "You can't do that! My men depend on me!"

Gwendal caught his brother's sharp chin in his hand and narrowed his eyes defensively—glaring across at his baby brother, who was acting even more like a baby (in his humble opinion) which further confirmed his suspicions.

"You will be reassigned to serve as my liaison for the next two months, or I will force you to go on leave…"

* * *

Yuuri had finished with his bath and had on a fresh set of clothes. It felt good to be clean again. Now, he was hungry and looking forward to seeing everyone at dinner. He wanted to catch up with Greta and the others who had remained at the castle. He was certain a lot had gone on without him. Then, Yuuri's thoughts drifted to Wolfram. He wondered how the interrogation went. Was he okay? The double black decided that he'd find out at dinner and, if not, he'd pull Wolfram aside afterwards to have a heart to heart.

Shoes tied, the double black sat on the edge of the bed and glanced around the room. It seemed neat—a little too neat. But he wasn't exactly sure why.

There was a gentle knock at the door and Yuuri went to answer it.

He opened the door wide and was surprised to see Wolfram on the other side. Wolfram mirrored the look.

"Since when do you ever knock?" he said teasingly. "You usually just barge in."

Wolfram blinked at Yuuri for a second, gathering his thoughts. "Oh, I thought you'd be in the dining room already. I can come back later." He started to go.

Yuuri noticed that Wolfram had a large box in his hands.

"No, it's fine. You can come in."

With an awkward glance down, Wolfram entered the room and went to the closet. He said in a tone he hoped would sound casual, "I thought that the maids had gathered all of my things. But, of course, they missed some stuff." He placed the box down and got onto his knees—rummaging around.

Yuuri found it hard to breathe for a second. _He's leaving…? Wolfram's moving out for good? _Yuuri waited a beat to see if The Maou would protest, but none came. He turned back to Wolfram."You don't have to do that," he said, which got him an incredulous glance from the person kneeling in the closet.

The blond leaned backwards and looked over his shoulder. "You're the king," Wolfram explained, "and I have no business keeping anything in your room." He gave an uncomfortable shrug and went back to his work. "It would imply a relationship that we don't have."

Yuuri tucked a raven strand of hair behind his ear. "I don't care about…"

"I know you don't care, Yuuri," Wolfram interrupted. "But, what I do or _don't do_ hurts more than just me. It's my brothers' reputations, my mother's, my extended family's… You could never understand that, could you?"

Not being born in Shin Makoku, Yuuri could only guess, in theory, what Wolfram meant. Still, he agreed to it anyway. Yes, he was an idiot.

The blond, on his knees, reached in and grabbed his extra set of uniform boots and placed them in the box. He reached up, grabbed the frilly nightgown off the hanger, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it carelessly inside, too—not caring if it got dirty next to the boots. Next, came a white cravat. Wolfram reached in and found a shopping bag and peeked cutely inside, almost owlishly. He pulled out a framed photograph. Yuuri recognized the picture. It was one his mother had taken.

"This was your festival called…Ka-ru-ee-su-ma-su." Holding it with both hands, Wolfram smiled wryly at the Christmas photo. The silver frame set it off well. In the picture, Wolfram and Yuuri stood side by side wearing Santa hats. Wolfram had an arm around Yuuri's neck protectively with a sexy look that said, "Back off. He's mine!" But, inspecting closer, Wolfram could see Yuuri's eyes were wide and innocent to it all. The tan hand clutched a pale wrist—whether to pull Wolfram in closer or to push him away, it was impossible to tell.

Yuuri worried when he noticed Wolfram's smile changing. It faded into the kind of smile that someone gets while looking at an old yearbook. It's the smile that clearly said, "Just look at me. I was so stupid back then."

Carelessly, he tossed it aside and went excavating in the closet again.

The double black bit his lip a little. At one time, that photo must have been Wolfram's treasure.

"Umm…I guess my mother gave you that picture, huh?" Yuuri said, looking down at it. The color photo had shifted a bit in the frame and it was crooked now.

"Hm?" came from the closet.

"I said that my mother gave you the picture."

"Yes," came the muffled voice, "and the frame, too."

"It sounds like her," he said.

Wolfram reached in for a pair of his rolled up socks in the corner. _I was going to give you that photo as a birthday gift… To show how much we belong together... It's pointless now, though._ "Just about done."

Yuuri put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Wolfram was leaving and he felt that he couldn't stop it.

"You could stay if you wanted to," he added lamely.

"I think we've just established that I can't," Wolfram said coldly and tossed the socks in the box. It was followed by a riding crop from his childhood and a spare uniform belt.

Wolfram reached in and removed piles of folded clothes—shirts, jeans, sneakers, and two red ties. He dumped them on top of the photo frame. Earth clothes. "I'll ask the maids to throw that stuff out." A part of Wolfram wanted to cry about that. He liked Earth very much and the clothes were fun to wear.

Yuuri scratched his head. "Why get rid of them? The next time we go, you're going to need them."

Wolfram picked up the box. "I'm not going back to Earth…anymore, Yuuri."

"Why?"

Another wry smile. "I don't need to."

He picked up the box and the items slid. He had to shift his stance in order to keep from spilling everything.

Crunch. It was the sound of glass breaking.

"What was…?" Wolfram's eyes bugged out a little. He'd stomped on the clothes and… "Oh, the picture frame. It's under the pile." He shifted the box in his hands. "My apologies. I'll send in a maid to clean it up."

The blond started to head for the door, feeling a little bad that he was leaving a mess behind for someone else to clean up. Like it or not, he accepted the fact that he was a neatnik.

"Wolfram, wait," Yuuri called, desperate to think of a way to save the situation.

The blond stopped, but didn't turn around. "Oh, and one more thing... Please tell Miko-san goodbye for me."

In the next second, the room began to fill with people. Greta popped her head in the door and jumped with glee to see both of her fathers. She wanted to hear all of the details of their trip. Wolfram gave a nod in Yuuri's direction, hands full. Günter entered to announce that dinner was just about ready. He placed his hands together and gushed at his idol. Anissina and Gisela stopped by to see what Günter was going on about. Soldiers guarding the hallway peeked in. And Gwendal and Conrad entered because a crowd had gathered for some inexplicable reason in the king's bed chambers.

With the noise and the people gathered around Yuuri, Wolfram took that opportunity to slip out of the room quietly.

No one heard him close the door.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_Well, I guess, it's the thought that counts._ With care, Wolfram lifted his new robe out of the folds of tissue paper. The long, rectangular box had been waiting for him on his bed with a note attached that said, "I got this for you! Just wait and see what else I've bought. Love, Mother." The long sleeved, oh-too-shiny robe was gold silk with stitches around the collar in such a deep purple color, it was almost black. Wolfram slipped it on, tightened it at the waist, and continued to rub a fluffy, white towel across his head. Tepid drops from his bangs fell against his cheeks.

For the moment, it felt good to be alone. "Too much," he sighed to himself.

Wearily, Wolfram sat on the edge of his bed and continued to rub. His eyes drifted to the dinner tray that he placed on his desk.

When he turned down the offer to go to dinner with the rest of them, mainly because the fatigue had finally gotten to him, Gwendal sent a servant with a tray of his favorite foods—including two desserts. There was a green salad with a cruet set with little bottles of olive oil and vinegar. And the meat was medium rare and sliced thin. Wolfram dipped a finger into the bowl of spice pudding, pecked at the berry cake, and forced down half of a sourdough roll. He knew his body was hungry, but he just wasn't feeling it. The bottle of wine and goblet that Yozak left in his room as a present didn't look good, either, even though Wolfram appreciated the gift. Somehow, the two of them had grown closer and it felt nice having someone. But, right now, the last thing Wolfram wanted was to drown his sorrows and then vomit up what precious little he'd bothered to eat. Besides, drinking by himself always made the loneliness worse.

There was a sharp knock.

"You can pick up the tray tomorrow. I'm not done eating," Wolfram lied.

Another knock.

"Did you hear me?"

Another knock.

"Look, I…!" Wolfram huffed to himself and stalked over to the door in a mood. "I said…!" The blond opened it in time to see Yuuri's boyish features change. The eyes turned to slits, his raven hair spilled down to his shoulders, and his frame grew a little. There was a knowing, bad-boy grin that greeted him.

"Maou?" Wolfram breathed. His hand clutched the knob in surprise. Wolfram had seen Yuuri transform into The Maou before, but never this close and never without dire need.

The Maou's smile at Wolfram didn't falter. He folded his arms casually. When Wolfram continued to stare, he leaned against the door frame, holding back his amusement. "If you don't mind…?" He pointed inside the room. Next, he placed his large hand playfully over the white towel draped over Wolfram's hair and gave both a tussle.

That snapped him out of it. "Wait! What am I doing?" the blond muttered in an undertone, admonishing himself. "Please, come in!" Wolfram said, returning the smile. He took a step back and allowed The Maou to enter.

The Demon King took in the room. It was Spartan, militaristic, and cold with the exception of the bed's blue canopy and matching linens. Apparently, the maids had turned down the bed while Wolfram was bathing. They even put a chocolate candy on the pillow.

"I'm glad you came," Wolfram said sincerely, wrapping his arms around one of the intricately carved columns of his four poster bed. The towel fell from Wolfram's hair down to his shoulders—draping them in the damp fabric.

"We wanted to see how you were," The Demon king mumbled as he eyed the tray of food. He also noted that the wine went untouched and the goblet dry.

"We?" Wolfram parroted. Did his family know that The Maou was coming here. Surely, not. The two of them agreed to be discrete about their relationship.

"Yuuri and I," he answered in a distracted tone and picked up the rectangular piece of berry cake. "At the door, you gave the impression you were eating..." He broke off small crumbs of the cake and tasted them impishly—watching Wolfram out of the corner of his eye.

"_Yuuri_," Wolfram said in a deep tone and narrowed his eyes at the floor.

A small smile played at The Maou's lips as he stepped forward with a broken off piece of the cake. "He cares about you…and so do I."

The blond could feel himself tense up. "I don't want to talk about him." Too much had gone on today. He needed a break from Yuuri.

"Ahem!" The Maou cleared his throat.

Wolfram looked up to a cake and cream-covered strawberry hovering before his eyes held between the thumb and finger of The Maou. "Wolfram, believe it or not, Yuuri has strong feelings for you."

"You're right. I don't believe you." It was curt. He knew it.

Green eyes widened when he felt a large hand on his lower back—reeling him in. The silk robe made the fingers slide against his skin.

"Reconsider…?" The voice was deep, demanding, sensual.

The berry was edged closer to Wolfram's mouth.

"Impossible," he whispered back.

The Maou pressed his lips against the curve of Wolfram's ear. "Think again…search your heart." The plump berry brushed against Wolfram's lower lip and, slowly, he opened his mouth to accept it. The Maou's finger lingered longer than necessary. The blond tasted it hesitantly with his tongue.

The hand on his back stroked him again.

Wolfram chewed, feeling his cheeks burning.

"It's best if you eat, Inamorato." He wrapped up Wolfram in his arms and tucked the blond head under his chin—warm and safe.

"Sorry," Wolfram said, "for worrying you. I didn't mean to."

He felt the weight of the white towel leave him. Then, his green eyes widened as he sensed hands loosening his belt. The material was unknotted quickly enough and, before the blond realized it, his silk robe fell to his ankles with a shimmering sound. _Wait! No clothes! I'm na-_ Wolfram's face flushed as he felt himself being picked up bridal style in The Maou's arms and brought over to the bed. The next thing he knew, he was being rolled over, roughly, onto his stomach.

"Beloved?"

"Huh?" Still slightly dazed.

The blond found the chocolate candy from his pillow being nudged between his lips. Though, Wolfram didn't mind, exactly. After all, it was chocolate and the Demon King had taken a little nibble out of it first.

Wolfram chewed, folded his arms on the pillow, and rested his head down. The Maou, he decided, was probably not much of a talker. He heard the night stand open and close. "Hmmm…nothing here…" The Maou's voice said.

"Sorry, I just moved in," he explained and buried his face further down to hide his blush.

_Awkward_ was bad. He could handle anything other than "awkward." But, he told himself that he hadn't been expecting The Maou this soon. And he certainly wasn't expecting to start their _relationship_ tonight.

"We'll just have to improvise," The Demon King said, going to the dinner tray and taking the salad oil. He held the bottle up to the light and examined it.

Wolfram let his head fall back down on his arms thinking, _He's kinky! I didn't think of what he'd like. What am I in for? What's next? The pudding? Am I the meal?_

Wolfram felt the bed dip and forced himself to remain calm. This was The Maou—the most respected of his kind. And it was the king who pursued him, not the other way around. _It's fine. He loves me and he'd never do anything to hurt me. Yes…I can do this for him… no matter how embarrassing and screwed up and imperfect this night is. But…damn, I wanted…better. For once in my life, I wanted things to go the right way._

"How many times do I have to heal you before your body decides to stop bruising?" Wolfram felt the warm, damp towel being draped across his bare rump.

"Eh?" Wolfram's head popped up only to be pushed back into the pillow by a strong hand. "Oi!" he complained, which got him a firm slap on the butt. The blond winced.

"Hold still or this is pointless…"

The answer was a very put out "humph" from the pillow.

Wet hair was brushed aside.

The green glow coming from The Maou's hands started at the base of the skull and slowly worked all the way down. Wolfram murmured pleasure as his bruises slowly disappeared and the fatigue began to fade. "Hnnn" very quickly became "Ohhh…" in a buttery voice.

"Like it?" The words were spoken softly into his ear.

An appreciative hum was the answer.

Wolfram turned and saw a self-satisfied smirk from The Maou as he retrieved the olive oil bottle. He opened it and drizzled some down along Wolfram's spine.

"Oi! That's cold! And I just took a bath!" he complained as he felt his muscles tighten up.

"Deal with it," came the dark, sexy voice.

Hands smoothed out the oil, caressing him with each sweep and gentle touch.

"You are thin. I can feel the bones."

"Gwendal says the same thing," Wolfram pouted. "I just haven't been hungry lately. I can't help it."

"So, is that what the three of you talked about in Gwendal's office?" he asked, dark eyes focused on his work.

Wolfram nodded his head. "Among other things."

"Such as?" the king said and pressed his fingers into a tight shoulder. Wolfram grunted and answered, "I'm to be Gwendal's liaison for the next two months."

The Maou remained quiet and made a soft circle with his fingers. "And the problem with that would be…?"

"Ouch! Oh, that's tight right there." He wiggled and continued with, "I can't train. I can't be with my men or make my contribution to the protection of the castle. I'll just 'drive a desk' and do what Gwendal says all the time."

The Maou, kneeling next to Wolfram's body, shifted a bit and reached for the other shoulder. "You'll learn the way the castle is really run. You'll spend time with your older brother. And, above all, you'll see that you are more than just a pretty face or a strong soldier. You're very bright, insightful."

Not convinced, Wolfram said, "Are you sure you're not just saying that because I'm too thin…too sickly to do my duty?"

Hands began to massage Wolfram's shoulders with a bit more force. "Intelligent men are very appealing, you know." A slick finger dipped from neck to collarbone.

Wolfram smiled at that and felt his heart beating hard.

The king turned his attention to the back and pressed a fist into a stubborn muscle that refused to obey him. Immediately, the blond's body crumbled. Wolfram moaned openly and rubbed his damp locks against the pillow. It felt so good—almost to the point of pain—and The Maou was merciless when he found a tight muscle. Wolfram kicked his leg a little when the feeling annoyed him—which got him another hard slap on the butt.

Wolfram gasped at the sting.

"I told you not to move," the king admonished, drawing spirals all the way down with feather light touches.

Pale fingers dug into the sheets. "Yes, sir," Wolfram groaned, wanting to rub his sore tushie. He was certain that it was cherry red by now.

"That should be, 'Yes, my love.'"

Wolfram smiled into the pillow. He hadn't said words like that to anyone in a very long time.

Fingers raked down from the shoulders to the small of the back.

Heavenly. It was heavenly. He tilted his head back with eyes closed.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, my love," he whispered. He meant it.

The word "good," was followed by The Demon King's attention being shifted to Wolfram's right arm. "Now, I want you to think about something," he said over the blond's latest moan of appreciation. "I want you…I want…us…to give Yuuri a second chance."

_You want…what?_ Wolfram turned his head from the pillow. His face showed surprise and pain. The Demon King couldn't blame him—and wouldn't—for what he was feeling. It was honest, if nothing else.

"Just try to be friends with him…without regrets…and to be open to more should it happen… That's all I ask."

The blond tugged his arm back with a frown coming to him. "You're asking a lot." His tone sounded broken. "I don't know…" He bit his lower lip at the thought of the request. "I don't even know if it was one… or many… girls that he had on Earth..." Then, he shook his head at that, the idiocy of it. Was it all really Yuuri? "Then again…the engagement was all in my mind, though…right? I knew what he was saying by ignoring everything. In the end…I suppose…it's really my fault."

The Maou rested his raven locks against Wolfram's. "No more accusations...from anyone… Just try." He smoothed a warm, wide hand over Wolfram's back as he did so.

"Why?" A sad whisper.

"I want us…all of us…to be happy…if it's possible." A slick hand stroked Wolfram's cheek. "Either way, you have me for the rest of your life."

"Forever?" Wolfram almost growled the word because he was certain that he didn't believe in "forever" anymore.

The Demon King cocked his head to one said, analyzing the pained, stubborn profile. "In the fullness of time, Inamorato, you'll come to understand that it is true." Then, the dark eyes narrowed. "Now, give me your other arm."

He tickled Wolfram's side and got a reluctant smile—even though the blond was fighting against it.

"…Arm…please…"

"Or?" Wolfram challenged a bit in a bratty tone.

"Or…I'll take away your towel… And I thought I would allow you a little _male modesty_ while I do this." The butt got slapped again. "…Especially when I turn you over and work on the other side…"

The blond gritted his teeth until the sting subsided, "When this is over with, you might have to heal me there from all of your spanking."

"Promises…promises." A playful smooch on the nose followed. "But, you know some part of you likes it…a lot." He rubbed the tender, towel-covered cheek.

Wolfram grinned to himself and held out his right arm for his lover to take. The Maou circled the bed with a knowing stride and took the thin arm. He poured a small measure of oil on it. The kneading of the skin continued. "We really should buy you some massage oil. You're starting to smell rather tasty."

_Tasty?_ "You know," Wolfram said honestly, "I feel a little foolish right now…but…" He cut his eyes at curious black ones and then turned away. "I kind of thought that you…um…wanted…to…" His voice trailed off.

There was a deep laugh, full of mirth. "Do you have any idea how much self-control it's taking me right now just to massage you and let your body recover?"

"Eh?" He glanced up with surprise. "Oh!" He lowered his face again. _Then, it's not because my looks haven't returned._

Strong hands massaged Wolfram's lower back in slow circles. It felt a little too hard but, oddly, delicious. He wanted to kick his feet again, but settled for a purr.

"But, when you love someone, you put them first—their heart first, their dreams first, their health first." He drew a heart in olive oil on Wolfram's back and the prone body shivered a little at it. "You do what's _best_ for them because your heart craves it; and unselfish love is the only gift worth giving."

Wolfram propped himself up on his elbows and stared up at The Maou. His eyes grew a darker shade of green.

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri woke up with Wolfram beside him. It was the vague sort of "normal" that his soul gladly accepted. His eyes narrowed, squinted up. The canopy wasn't one that he recognized. The mattress felt small and kind of lumpy—not the usual. The room reeked of olive oil and, for some reason, his pajamas felt odd.

Yuuri let himself snuggle into the pillow and his nose went directly into sweetly perfumed locks that smelled of sunflowers. Wolfram. It had to be him. How Yuuri missed that warm glow and the scent that came with his presence.

The double black blinked a little. With a sleepy groan that started out as a hum, he rolled over in bed a little.

"Wolfram, I'm glad you're here," Yuuri mumbled sleepily. He had no idea how this had come to be. But, it didn't matter. Glad in his heart, he'd go back to dreamland.

Shifting again, the double black felt himself spooned against the other body—which woke him up a bit more. Never before had he slept that close to Wolfram. He'd seen Trouble and Murata doing it, and felt jealous pangs, but he'd never done it with the blond. It felt surprisingly good—comforting—after so long.

The morning sun was streaming through the windows. They needed to get up and back into their routines. Yuuri's hand reached for Wolfram's shoulder to shake him awake and found the shoulder cold and bare. The blond shivered.

_The nightie slipped down, huh_? _I guess, we could stay here a few more minutes to warm up, _he thought with eyelids getting heavy again. Yuuri reached for the covers and pulled them higher over the narrow shoulder. Underneath the fabric, his hand slipped lower.

Bare skin.

It felt slick. _That's…odd…_ Yuuri's hand slid easily along Wolfram's chest, ribs, waist—lower still …

"Oh my gosh!" He bolted upright and the covers pooled around his waist. "Naked!" he choked.

"Hnnn…" Wolfram grunted, waking up a little. "Maou… Can you keep it down? Let me sleep…" A snore snuck its way in before he added, "Last night was great, though…"

The double black blinked at that and himself. He realized that his "pajamas" were not pajamas at all but the black uniform that he always wore around the castle. But, now, the shirt and pants were coated with—he fisted the uniform at the chest and pulled it away from his body, then gave it a good sniff—olive oil! He looked down at the nude figure next to him. Rattled as he was, Yuuri had to admit that Wolfram's body looked much better than it had the day before. And the blond had a beautiful, glossy sheen to him that made him positively glimmer.

_What did we do?_ Yuuri thought, trying to imagine any way possible that the situation could be hentai, but it wasn't coming to him. He decided that something did, in fact, happen between them and that he was either too naïve or too stupid to figure it out. He had heard of stories where one partner was naked and the other partially clothed. _But, this? _He tested his collar. It was buttoned up to the top. He ghosted his zipper. Zipped.

"I'm cold," Wolfram complained—hand reaching weakly for the comforter.

Yuuri nodded, grabbed the edge and covered the pale body up to the neck. Shakily, he cuddled up next to Wolfram to keep him warm. But, as he did so, he was also afraid that one mistake would lead to a scene like last night with the blond leaving suddenly with his box of possessions.

"I guess, I've come this far and I don't know exactly what I did. Or, rather, what The Maou did. And I know that The Maou did something." Then, he covered his eyes with his hand. _Great, now I'm talking to myself out loud._

"Maou," Wolfram whined, "shush."

The double black glanced at the snoozing form again and remembered Tra'va's parting words to him. They were saddling up the horses and the fox woman tugged at his sleeve and took him aside.

"What do you want?" Yuuri said, happy that things with Wolfram were finally going the right way.

"Wolfram is going to need time to heal from his wounds…and from _everything_. You understand what I mean by 'everything,' right?"

The onyx eyes widened a little.

"If you want my advice," she said with a hand on her hip, "which, come to think of it, you probably don't…" Tra'va chuckled to herself. "Give him some space and some time to sort out his feelings. Don't smother him."

Yuuri turned to look at Wolfram, who was tightening his saddle. His skin looked bruised, his hair a strange color of blond that he didn't recognize. "You may be right."

Yuuri turned back to Tra'va and saw that her mouth was hanging open. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"I can't either," he said with a small laugh and a hand behind his head. "But, you know him better than anyone else. I'll admit that."

That earned him a small smile.

"And, Yuuri…one other thing…"

"Hm?" he said, head tilted slightly.

"Win his heart all over again."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Why would I have to do that?" He put his hands in his pockets shyly and kicked the ground a little. "Wolfram already has…feelings…"

"But, he doesn't trust you or himself anymore," Tra'va said wisely, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. "And, even now, you still have that love note in your pocket."

The double black's fingers touched the paper in his right pocket and cringed a little at that.

"Do the right thing, Yuuri," Tra'va said with a warm hug goodbye that almost unnerved him, "whatever that 'right thing' happens to be…_for Wolfram_."

The double black let go of the memory.

Still in the bed together, Yuuri now held Wolfram in his arms a bit closer to his body. He could see it now. On the return trip, he'd gone from someone who cared to someone who came across as "cold." That's how Murata saw it and, he was certain, that's how Wolfram saw it, too. Once again, he was too literal in the advice given to him. "Giving space" and "abandoning" were cousins at best and he had to learn the difference pretty quickly if he wanted the future he was hoping for.

Wolfram rubbed his head against the pillow and mumbled something in an undertone that wasn't coherent. But, Yuuri didn't care. It was nice. This moment, however it came to be, was nice. But, he was still curious as to what went on that he didn't know about. No, it was more than simple curiosity. It was eating at him.

"Wolfram…uh…" Yuri whispered gently. He could feel his face getting warm.

"Hm?" Green eyes opened and looked at him blearily.

"Wolfram?! Your eyes!"

Still thick-headed, nothing sinking in just yet. _What's he saying?_

"Your eyes are dark green now!" Yuuri cupped the face and stared down into it, clearly loving everything that he was seeing. It was nothing short of a miracle.

_Yuuri?! Oh, Great Shinou! It's Yuuri! _His body froze._ I'm in bed with Yuuri!_

Wolfram could feel his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment and the way Yuuri was squeezing so hard to get a better look. Fully awake and heart pumping hard now, it was a bit of a revelation to realize that he was in bed—naked!—with Yuuri. He had drifted off with The Maou next to him but he should have known better. He kicked himself mentally over that one.

"Dark green!" he blathered. "It's not the usual color that it was before. But, dark is good!" He hugged Wolfram's head to an annoyed "muvpheed" sound that seemed undignified, but he didn't care.

"Thanks," Wolfram said, squinting and rubbing his blond hair with one hand once he was freed. "I didn't know."

It was such a thrilling thing to see after all this time. "Just one more look," Yuuri said excitedly and pushed Wolfram onto his back by his shoulders. Unfortunately, Wolfram's body was still slick with oil and his hands slid off the shoulders entirely. Yuuri was now on top of Wolfram—hands bracing himself at either side of Wolfram's shoulders, and his right leg was between Wolfram's, and hips pushed against each other.

Wolfram.

Naked.

Under him.

"I…ummm…" was all that Yuuri could say. His lips were dangerously close.

Frozen, the blond looked up into onyx eyes. "It's okay." The words were barely a whisper.

Images of Wolfram leaving flashed in his mind again. Now he was here with the blond. Giving up that nagging little voice that said "be straight laced," Yuuri lowered his forehead against Wolfram's, his face softened. "Last night, did… did The Maou…_kiss_ you?" He'd start with that.

Wolfram thought back on it. The Maou did peck him on the nose with a chaste kiss.

"Um…yeah…kind of…"

Yuuri nodded at that. Of course he did. That and probably more, Yuuri reasoned logically. _It's not as if we've never done this before, either…but, at the time, he thought he was in the dark with The Maou… _Yuuri closed his eyes. The double black lowered his mouth and pressed his lips against Wolfram's. Yuuri could feel the blond gasp as their lips touched.

Underneath the double black, Wolfram's mind went blank at the sensations. He never would have guessed that Yuuri had the guts to even try this.

Wolfram didn't respond. Growing determined, another kiss followed—pushing the blond into the pillow with the cutest "meh" sound that Yuuri had ever heard. He pressed himself against the slick body.

Wolfram was impressed with the way that Yuuri could do it. There was a skill and confidence behind it all. Some nagging, jealous part of him knew that Yuri had practiced with someone—probably a lot of _someones_. But, at that moment, he was certain that Yuuri wasn't thinking about any of them. For once, he had Yuuri's full attention and his affections—a living fantasy. Gently, he placed his arms around the double black and, with hesitation, arched up a little to deepen the kiss.

The double black turned his face away. "Better stop," Yuuri mumbled and Wolfram raised an eyebrow to that.

"For your sake or mine?" he asked, breathing hard.

Yuuri laughed sheepishly. "Both…I guess…"

Wolfram gave a suspicious nod. Maybe, this was the way his new life was going to be—fall asleep with The Maou and wake up with a smooching Yuuri who would easily pretend that nothing happened as the day progressed. Yes, that would be just like him.

"What?" Yuuri asked, feeling the mood darken.

"It's okay," he shrugged. "What I mean is, it's okay to pretend this never happened. The kisses, you know?" Wolfram's smile was faint, barely there. He was giving the double black a way out.

"Maybe, I don't want to," Yuuri said, lowering his face to stare at the dark green eyes again. It was such a relief to see them.

"Then, should I give you a reminder?"

The look was almost playful again but slightly mischievous. Nevertheless, it made Yuuri happy. "Sure, you can give me a reminder." _After all, you nag anyway. It will be good to hear that again, too. I've missed it._

In the span of a second, Yuuri found himself tipped over onto his back, the covers tangled around them, and Wolfram smiled at his chance to use some of his military training on Yuuri in bed.

Slim, nimble fingers found the stiff collar and began to unbutton it.

Pop.

Pop.

He would toy with the button briefly with the tip of his finger before popping it through the material, opening the jacket a little more as he worked his way down.

"Not afraid, are you?" came the sexy voice above him.

Yuuri could feel his heart beating wildly. He'd asked for this. He knew it. "N-No," he said in a tone less than confident, "I'm not afraid."

"Hmm… That's _good_," came the whisper as the buttons continued to be freed past mid-chest. A cold feeling settled on his skin. The nude blond looked down hungrily, the comforter barely covering his hips. Fingers tightened against the shirt. The cloth on the right was pulled aside and a feral Wolfram whispered harshly. "Last chance," he said, "I'll let you go."

Onyx eyes stared back into green. Yuuri's eyes caught it. He saw an emerald spark in them and hope flooded into him. "No, I can handle it. Don't let me go."

In response, Wolfram thought he could see dark slits in Yuuri's eyes, but they quickly blended back. "As you wish…"

The double black felt slim fingers circling his wrist, holding it down against the mattress.

Wolfram pulled the oil-slicked material back with his hand and said, "This is your reminder of this morning. So, you can't deny it…even to yourself." He pressed his lips to the tan skin and sunk his teeth in lightly into the chest. Yuuri cringed a little as the teeth sunk in further and he sucked at the tender flesh. Then, a gasp followed. Wolfram's tongue darted at the spot. Yuuri closed his eyes and turned his head away, breathing hard with the twisting sensation that was coming to him. It was wet and felt too good. Another gasp. He had to fight to keep from thrashing under Wolfram.

Then, it stopped.

Wolfram was lying on top of him in a contemplative sort of way, admiring his work. The small hickey was purpling nicely.

"That's a…" Yuuri looked down at himself with a bit of surprise.

"Reminder," Wolfram finished for him. "But, don't worry. It doesn't mean that I've marked you as mine or that we're a couple."

Yuuri's face fell at that. That's exactly what he thought a hickey was.

Wolfram folded his hands together on top of Yuuri's chest and rested his chin down on them. "We just woke up together and had a bit of fun. That's all."

Wolfram tucked a wheat colored strand behind his hear. _No more promises and no more disappointments. I'll expect very little from you, and you won't be able to hurt me anymore. If we drift apart again…just like on the trip back home from the shrine…at least, I'll have this morning and this moment...and The Maou. For all my life, it will be enough._

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"Who was Tasha von Dauer?" Yuuri huffed as he jogged along. Sweat had soaked his hair thoroughly and was trickling down his neck in warm little droplets. It tickled.

Conrad's eyes widened at the name and his hands, which were balled into fists as usual when he jogged, tightened. Yuuri could see it and he noticed that his godfather paled a little. Maybe, Yuuri thought, it would have been better to bring this up when they first started their jog. But, it had taken him this long to work up the courage. And, by the looks of it, he'd pushed a sore spot. Had he known, he probably wouldn't have said anything at all, kept the question to himself.

"Just curious, Heika…"

"It's 'Yuuri,' you know." He gave a reassuring smile. Maybe, that would work.

Conrad nodded. He was waiting for the usual dialogue of "…You named me…" to follow, but it didn't. There was a short, but awkward silence with only the sound of heavy breathing coming from both of them. Somewhere inside, Conrad was trying to buy some time—time to think of an appropriate and respectful response.

Dark eyes regarded him.

Apparently, Yuuri wanted to know right now and had cut to the chase.

"Well," Conrad began cautiously and continued to jog along their usual path, "Natasha von Dauer was a second cousin of Anissina's and a distant relative of Erhard Wincott." He jumped over a broken branch and kept on running at an even pace. But he caught himself frowning at the memories. "A well organized band of human assassins infiltrated the von Karbelnikoff castle…and, she died as a result."

Yes, that part he was aware of. "Wolfram said…she was…um…_killed_ in the garden." The double black decided to gloss over the details. Surely, Conrad knew it all better than he did anyway.

"Wolfram…mentioned her? _Really_?" Conrad stopped running and stood in one spot, bent over slightly and breathing hard. He was looking up to Yuuri for an answer with his brown eyes deepening with concern.

The double black stopped, too. "You see," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head nervously in much the same way his father always did,"…he kind of…well, yeah…"

Conrad rested his hands on his hips and stared down at the ground for a second. He hadn't been running that hard, but he still felt out of breath. "Sorry, Yuuri… I'm just…_surprised_…that's all…"

The double black could see Conrad's mind racing—trying to strategize, to determine what would make Wolfram mention this person from his past. And why now?

"You do know, Yuuri, that, back then, Wolfram and Natasha were…" He searched for a word and came up with "together."

Yuuri shook his head at that. He knew. And he was fine with it, really. He gave a brief shrug as an answer and Conrad's eyes widened a little. His impression was that either Yuuri had suddenly matured or that he didn't care.

"Natasha wasn't the only one who died that day. There were several very important diplomats meeting for the first time—probably the whole reason why the castle was attacked in the first place—and one of the lesser nobles died after being thrown off of the castle wall."

Yuuri cringed.

"I know it's difficult to understand, but… Yuuri, they had a higher social standing than Natasha. And her relationship with Wolfram was kept quiet…but everybody knew. So, her death was overshadowed by the diplomats' deaths because they were holding debriefing sessions at the castle. Another round of negotiations with a select group of human dignitaries was to begin the following month. But, obviously, that never happened because of the incident."

Yuuri frowned a little. "You mean, her death is just a side note in some history book that Günter will make me read someday?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"That's horrible," Yuuri muttered and continued his jog which, at the moment, was more like power walking. "To be forgotten like that."

Conrad was quickly at Yuuri's side. "Well, not entirely."

"Hm?" Onyx eyes glanced at him.

"At the end of every summer, Wolfram visits her grave in the von Karbelnikoff Cemetery. He brings her flowers and burns incense." Conrad wiped the sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose. "And it's one of the few places where Wolfram prays openly."

Black eyebrows pushed together curiously. "How do you…?"

Conrad chuckled in his usual, slightly rumbling, way. "Wolfram goes out on patrols often enough. But, sometimes, he takes the long way home." Then, a smile came to him. "I also suspect that, in future, he'll take the occasional detour to the von Christ lands to meet up with Trouble." He pushed his limp, brown hair out of his eyes. "I realized Wolfram's little habit when he started refusing to let me come along on certain patrols. And, then, his private guard would return to the castle quietly without him." Conrad's features brightened almost boyishly with the words, "Yozak later confirmed it, of course, so that I wouldn't worry."

Yuuri frowned at that prospect. _Wolfram's private guard will go to any lengths to help him, huh?_

"Is there a problem?" Conrad quickened his pace a little to keep up with Yuuri—who was jogging now.

"No, I understand things better…"

Conrad jogged a little harder. "But, I fail to understand one thing, Yuuri."

"What?"

"Why mention Natasha now? Did something happen?" He said the words as though speaking out loud to himself. "On the way back, I noticed that Wolfram was…distant. Something was definitely bothering him and it was more than just physical, I think." He hesitated for a moment and added, "And, with the flowers and the girls… He didn't react the way I expected him to. But, he also didn't want to appear weak. That was plain to see when we were talking in Gwendal's office." He wiped his damp face with the back of his hand. Concern was gripping his chest harder with each step. "Yuuri…You know that if Wolfram needed help in some way, I would be there…right?"

Yuuri shook his head a little. "Nothing happened…exactly…"

"Just reminiscing about the past?" came a friendly voice from behind a tree. It was Yozak. Just how long he'd been standing there, it was impossible to say. The orange haired spy approached them with his hands in his pockets and a casual gait.

"Well…uh…you see…" The double black stammered, wondering how he was going to keep Yozak from joining this particular conversation. He really didn't want to get into it because it was Wolfram's past, not his. And, even now, he wasn't sure what to do about Wolfram. But what he did know was that some part of him needed to see the blond and be next to him. His heart ached for it even now.

Yozak's sky blue eyes met with Conrad's. There was a hint of suspicion. Yozak said loftily, "But to bring up an old love…after so much time has passed…?"

Conrad's eyes said, 'This could be a big problem."

With a relaxed wink and smile, Yozak agreed.

Yuuri looked down at his shoes. "I think this is nothing, really. I was asking for information on somebody Wolfram just happened to mention." As each second ticked by, his face slowly revealed worry. There was a hint of something that seemed like jealousy, too, and confusion about what to do next. By asking the question about Tasha, he'd opened himself up to a lot more questions that he wasn't ready to answer.

The spy could read his emotions only too easily. "If it's any consolation," Yozak said, "she pursued him, became his shadow…and he gradually accepted her feelings." The spy shoved his hands back into his pockets. "But that's the usual way it is with him."

Conrad nodded. "What Yozak means is that Wolfram has had nobles and commoners alike approach him since his Coming of Age Party decades ago. So, that's the norm with him."

"Except in your case," the spy teased. "He'd been chasing after you for years because you never even noticed him." Yozak was about to add something like "What a letdown that had to be, chasing your own fiancé?" followed by a laugh, but one slight glare from Conrad shut him up. "Oh…sorry," he said with a boyish "Oh, my bad" kind of shrug. Just because it was the truth, it didn't mean that he had to say it.

Yuuri nodded at that and mumbled, "No, you're right."

"And, with that," Yozak said with a glance of apology to Conrad, which was easily accepted, "I'll be off." Footsteps softly padded on the jogging trail. He muttered to himself as he walked past Conrad, almost brushing shoulders with, "Gee, I hope I have someone to play cards with tonight. It will be terribly lonely if there's no one."

"Lonely? You?" Conrad said, loud enough to be heard. "Never …"

"There's always a first time," came the amused voice.

_Lonely? Is that what I've done to Wolfram all this time? Damn…__ Right now, I really miss him and it…hurts. I can't imagine feeling this way…for years… _Then, Yuuri turned to Conrad, "I don't really feel like running anymore. Can we leave? Go to the baths? I'd like to talk there…and ask you a few things. That will give us another half hour before my lessons."

"Sure."

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Yuuri slipped his feet into the royal bath. The sudden shock of the warmth, pricking in like needles at first, soon mellowed as he got used to it. "I don't know what to do about Wolfram…and me…." Yuuri still had a white towel around his waist and his back was to Conrad. He opened his mouth to say something and then, just as quickly, he shut it. It was embarrassing. _No, _Yuuri thought_, I really need to talk about this. That's why we're here._ There was a frustrated huff coming from the double black. He'd try again. "Did you ever feel…?" _Desperate to have someone, but felt too uncertain as to the way to go about it…? _He smacked a hand over his face._ Oh, how can I say that? This is Conrad's little brother we're talking about. And the engagement is broken—over with._ He groaned inwardly.

"Did I ever feel…what?" Conrad asked gently, sitting next to Yuuri. He rested a friendly hand on the double black's shoulder to show support.

Yuuri turned to him and saw his godfather's eyes widen for reasons he couldn't fathom. _What's wrong…? I don't…_ He blinked at Conrad. And, then he followed the man's narrowed gaze.

He was staring down at his chest!

_Oh my gosh! The hickey! HELL!_ Yuuri smacked a hand over the purple mark and winced openly. It was sore and, now, it was throbbing a little.

"I…understand…" Conrad said mechanically.

_Oh, no-o-o…you don't!_ Yuuri turned his head away. This was bad! It was very, very bad!

"It's okay, Yuuri," Conrad sighed. He'd seen this moment coming. Over the past two years, when his brother and godson didn't get along, he imagined this day and felt anxious about it. One of them would decide to find affection elsewhere. It was only natural, he decided, that it be Yuuri because he was really too young to settle down. And Wolfram, who had lived decades longer and had more life experience, was the one pressuring for the marriage. But, broken engagement aside, all of the experience in the world would not prepare him for the suffering he'd go through once he realized that all hope was gone—that he'd finally lost the only person he'd ever truly wanted in his life. And Conrad knew that, even now, Wolfram dearly loved Yuuri—whether The Maou was a part of the equation or not.

Conrad understood what the ache felt like—losing someone that you wanted and needed by your side. But, he was also in a bind. Conrad knew only too well that Wolfram would never go to him with this. He might go to Gwendal. But, other than that, he wasn't sure who the blond would confide in. Then, his mind flashed to Yozak. They'd gotten to know each other better as of late. He'd ask the spy for a favor tonight while they played cards.

"It's not what you think it is." The double black laughed nervously.

"No, I'm pretty sure I know what it is. And it is fine, Yuuri." Conrad leaned back a little and cursed himself. Trouble was right. Her words, "I don't envy you," when they first met were ringing in his ears. "If the person who gave you that is here, just be quiet about it. Your engagement to Wolfram is over. So, no one will blame you. But, status and lineage mean a lot. As unfair as that sounds… And you will have more problems than you bargained for if the person who gave that to you doesn't have the social standing to be with a king." He leaned back on his arms and looked at the ceiling. "I'm sorry about that. But it is the reality."

Yuuri's jaw dropped a little. He couldn't believe Conrad would think this. In his mind, he could just see an angry blond pointing and shouting "cheater" and "immoral king!" even if it was Wolfram who'd given him the kiss mark in the first place. _This is so stupid,_ Yuuri thought.

"On the other hand, if the person is on Earth, no one will know for a time—if you're discrete." As a godfather, he felt it necessary to mention that part. But, he knew Yuuri had not been to Earth since they'd come back from their journey. The person, obviously, was in Shin Makoku.

Yuuri rubbed the mark on his chest. He'd kept it because it was from Wolfram and was a "reminder." He didn't want to heal the mark even though he had the power to do so. But, now, the whole situation felt weird, and he couldn't hide how sick he felt inside from indecision.

Seeing Yuuri's reaction, Conrad said gently, "There was a time in my life when I was wild, too. And kind of unruly…"

"I can't imagine people seeing you that way. You're too hard on yourself," Yuuri said with a sad chuckle. He just couldn't picture his godfather with a rep like that.

"It's true, though. Ask Yozak if you don't believe me." He remembered his "old self" and laughed at him. "I suppose every man just has to go through that at some point in his life. It's a part of growing up."

"Really?" Yuuri said, now feeling a bit better about his romantic entanglements on Earth and his feelings for Wolfram. "I never thought of it as a phase."

Conrad smiled at him knowingly. "Puppy love? Yes, you'll probably fall in and out of it a few times. Then, you'll have a better idea of what you want and who you want to be with."

"Fall in and out…of love? And everyone goes through it…'' Yuuri's features took on a concerned look again. Unconsciously, he tightened his fists at the thought of losing Wolfram. Maybe, Wolfram was already slipping away from him. The first step might be that he didn't care anymore. No more verbal explosions and shouts of "cheater." No more races around the castle for simply smiling at the maids. And the second would be feeling tired, detached, of all the things going on around him. After all, Wolfram had made the kiss mark. And the blond that he knew would consider them "together" if he ever got the chance to lay a lip on him. Now, Wolfram gave him the impression that doing such things, while naked and in a bed no less, was nothing. It was a strange attitude coming from someone who had been celibate for years lying next to his dense fiancé.

Conrad glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Did Wolfram know that you had… _someone_? Is that why he broke the engagement so quickly?" Then, he looked at Yuuri directly. "Wait… He knew…and let you go so that you could be happy. That's the only answer." Conrad's blood ran cold. _Wolfram. Wretched. Abandoned. He'd known, somehow, and chose the only way out that would preserve his dignity and give the illusion that his heart could take it._

The double black couldn't deny it even though Conrad had the details all wrong. He felt ashamed.

"And, now, The Maou wants Wolfram and you…_don't_." Conrad whispered it to himself, thinking out loud. That had to be it because Murata and Yozak had filled him in on some little "tid bits" of information.

Yuuri felt a stab. "It's…complicated." The less said, the better until he could talk to Wolfram again. Yuuri crossed his arms defensively. Inside, he felt himself wanting to just crawl away to somewhere where he could sleep this feeling off. He wasn't sure what to call it. But, whatever it was, it made his soul feel heavy, cold, and dark.

Yuuri kicked his feet in frustration. Then, he inhaled sharply when a wide hand seized his forearm and shook slightly with it in its tight grip. "Yuuri…Wolfram didn't mention Natasha to you because…" His brown eyes darkened ominously. "He didn't say…that he wanted _to join her_….?"

Onyx eyes widened at the thought. "No! Of course not!"

"Are you certain that he didn't want to die?" Conrad could feel his heart beating hard, the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. There was something reminiscent of the battlefield in this moment and it hurt. Conrad's fingers stiffened. It seemed forever before his godson spoke again.

"If I thought that," Yuuri said with an edge of panic in his voice, "would we be sitting here…talking?" He cringed to block out the hideous image in his head--Wolfram's grave. "Besides, Wolfram is proud. He'd never fall on his sword or set himself on fire. Taking his own life would be weakness. And you just said that he doesn't want to be weak."

"Sorry," Conrad said and let go of Yuuri's arm. "I'm just…worried about him. That's all." His hair was sticking to the back of his neck and he pushed it to the side. "I want what's best for you both. And, if that's not each other…" He finished with a shrug, downcast.

Yuuri lowered his head, too, but was rubbing his sore arm from where Conrad had gripped it. "I can't move forward like this."

"Just remember… Take all the time you need." Conrad placed a brotherly arm across Yuuri's shoulders, but his tone sounded sad.

"That's the problem, Conrad. I don't have time anymore." _Not from Wolfram and not from what The Maou said, either._ Then, it came to him. He would follow Trouble's advice after all. Yes, he would. "Now, I know what I need to do next." _And I have a goal._

* * *

It had been two days since he last saw Wolfram in the hallway with a stack of files for Gwendal's meeting with the nobles, which was annoying, to say the least, because there was no time to talk. The blond, walking at his brother's elbow, nodded politely and continued on.

Now that Yuuri was here, he had to admit that sitting down to dinner was uncomfortable for just about everyone in the room. Conrad and Gwendal exchanged looks with Günter. Gisela simply blinked with a frown, but continued to chat with an overly enthusiastic Lady Cheri—which was just like her when things were rough, cover it up with happiness. Murata Ken waited happily, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes when they met up with the double black's.

When Wolfram arrived, he traded seats with Greta—who, not understanding the symbolism, was thrilled to have a father on either side of her. She took the seat eagerly and stared at her Papa Wolf with a dreamy glow in her eyes. Wolfram nagged her into eating her vegetables and praised her for her table manners. She was "the perfect princess" in his opinion. And she giggled.

"I've been wanting to ask… What did you do to your hair and eyes?" Greta said with a wondrous look. She reached up to touch a wheat-colored strand. His glossy locks seemed to be full of the khaki lowlights.

The conversations stopped around them. Somewhere, a spork hit a plate. There was an eerie silence that Wolfram chose to ignore.

"It's a little different, isn't it?" Wolfram said nervously. His mirror was a constant reminder that his looks had changed. Luckily, the sunny blond roots were coming back. So, it was easy to see why she thought it was hair dye.

"When can I do that to my hair? I want to make it pretty, too!" She turned to Yuuri, pleading. "Please, Daddy Yuuri! I want to look like Papa Wolf."

Yuuri pruned up at the very idea. His daughter was not ready for hair dye. Nope. "You have to get a little older before you're ready." Then, he gave her shoulders a light hug. "For now, you're beautiful the way you are."

"We'll work on him," Wolfram chuckled into his salad and took a big bite of lettuce.

Yuuri regarded him closely. It was the first time since they got back that he'd heard Wolfram sound amused without a hint of worry or remorse, and it was also the first time, in awhile, that Wolfram had acknowledged his presence besides that brief smile in the hallway while his arms were full of file folders.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri said and got a vague "Hm?" from the blond. Nonchalantly, the double black stroked the place on his chest where his hickey was fading. Even through the material, it was slightly tender when he did it. "Then, I guess, we have a lot to talk about."

"Do we?" Dark green eyes flashed a fierce spark to communicate his insistence that they keep their moment alone secret—but, for appearance's sake, his face wore a thin smile.

"Consider it a_ 'reminder'…_?" Yuuri returned with a thin smile of his own and dug into his salad, too. And, for once, he didn't care that it had sassy little chunks of tangerine in it.

* * *

"This was what I wanted to show you."

The voice was familiar and the double black stopped in his tracks.

"I'd say…"

Just hearing it put him in high spirits.

"…Right at this point…"

Yuuri walked into Gwendal's office and stopped inside. He folded his arms against his chest and watched Wolfram, his "Wolfram," at work—standing dutifully next to Gwendal and pointing down at the forms spread across the large, wooden desk.

"See? Yuuri Heika keeps approving these when he doesn't mean to because the form is confusing. Just look at how it's worded. I can design another one, giving clearer instructions, and have it on your desk by tomorrow morning."

Gwendal frowned down at the papers, but nodded—seeing his brother's point. "I understand what you mean by that.... But we've been using these forms for thirty years…"

"Anything that's easier to read will be great!" Yuuri said enthusiastically. He approached the pair, who were surprised to see him, with a wide grin.

Wolfram stood upright and cocked his head coyly to one side, letting the early morning sun that was streaming through the window caress his face. "I thought that would be the reaction."

"Well, if it is a help to Heika…" Gwendal grumped and gave his king an even look.

"It will," Yuuri brightened. "Wolfram's great at organizing." Wisely, he omitted the part about him organizing the king's bed chambers and insisting upon clothes always being tossed into the hamper. Still, the image of undressing and getting ready for bed played in his mind. Wolfram's skin had an ethereal glow to it, and there was a cute little dimple on his…

Yuuri raked his hand through his hair and pushed the mental picture aside for the moment.

The blond blushed at Yuuri's complement and tried to busy himself. "I'd better take these," he muttered, bending at the waist slightly to snatch a thick stack of papers with one hand, "and file them."

"Impressive," Yuuri said almost blissfully at the bent over view before him and got another hard stare from Gwendal that seemed to say "That's my brother. So, back off."

Yuuri forced confused, rounded puppy eyes. He'd learned to do that from Greta—which gave the administrator the impression that he might have been wrong after all. Maybe his mind was in the gutter and not his king's—which was, according to reputation, beyond the double black as the "Straight-As-An-Arrow-Clueless King."

"My liaison is quite efficient, granted." He coughed into his fist and added. "You'll be seeing the benefits soon."

"Eh?" The double black didn't quite get it. But Wolfram did and grinned openly. "Oh, yes… These…" With his left hand, he scooped up a towering stack of papers.

"You have to file those, too. Right, Wolfram?" The double black's tone was almost teasing. It was great to be with Wolfram again.

Dark green eyes danced. It felt terrific until he heard the words, "Oh, no. These papers go to the maou's desk."

The smile melted like a snowball in a volcano. "Wait! What did you just say?" His onyx eyes bugged out at the sheer size of the stack.

"Apparently, my liaison is far more skilled at paperwork than I anticipated," Gwendal said, puffing his chest out. Wolfram lowered his head behind the paperwork tower to hide a devious smirk. "So," the administrator when on, "you can have all of your documents ready in a more timely manner."

"But! Wait!" Yuuri called to Wolfram as he disappeared out the door. "G-w-e-n-d-a-l," Yuuri whined with a river of comic tears running down his face, "that stack is huge! I'll bet no one even sorted through it for priority. Worst of all, that has got to be at least two days of work!"

"Sort? Of course someone did…" He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Someone always goes through the documents so that your time isn't wasted."

"Oh, really?" He frowned, disbelieving. He knew what "normal" was. And that _was not_ it.

Gwendal smoothed back a strand of hair and muttered in an amused tone, "In this case, it was Wolfram."

The knife twisted inside of Yuuri for the briefest second.

"This is revenge, isn't it?" the double black muttered darkly.

He was greeted with a devilish grin from the administrator behind the desk. "I'm sorry, Heika. I didn't quite hear that." It was insincere, every word. When Yuuri's face twitched in response, Gwendal added, "If there's nothing else…?"

Yuuri pursed his lips together and left the office thinking, _Oh, there will be something else. And I'll do my best to make it happen._

* * *

The double black's hand patted the lunch tray—searching for a crustless sandwich from the small stack that Sangria had made for him. He took a sip of the green tea that he'd brought back from Earth while reading through what seemed to be the fiftieth confusing document from the "leaning pile of paperwork" threatening him on the edge of his desk.

The door opened and closed without so much as him looking up. Maybe, there was a knock that preceded it. He didn't really care.

"I'm a little bit busy," Yuuri said offhandedly as he nibbled the edge of his sandwich. _This one's fried egg and tomato. Not bad, really…_ Footsteps came. "Too much to do… Sorry about that." He took a bigger bite, chewed, and swallowed without really tasting it, all the while underlining something that was written in an illegible hand. _What was that word, anyway? Aw…and it would have to be the last word in the sentence…the verb!_

"Yuuri Heika."

"Hmm…" His eyes narrowed at the document. They seemed to want permission to excavate on the royal lands near Shinou's Temple. That would be a "no" in his book. _Oh, wait… Murata's the one who put this request in. So, I guess, it's okay with Shinou after all. Just going through the motions of asking, eh? Fine… Then, I don't care, either…_

"Yuuri Heika?"

The blond stood before the desk and leaned over a little, trying to get his attention.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri blinked up. It was as though the young man had just materialized in front of him. "I'm sorry," he said with a smile coming to his face, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously," Wolfram stated with his arms folded across his chest.

"I didn't mean to ignore you." The double black put down the remains of his sandwich. It was rude to be the only one eating. In fact, just the concept made him uneasy.

"I came to see why you didn't come to lunch. Usually, you're quite happy to skip out on this," he gestured to the stack of papers. "But…maybe, I was wrong about you… You're working hard."

Yuuri smiled a little and said, "Wrong about me? Ah…well…I don't know about that…" He got a confused look for that one. Then, the double black went on. "With the forms you're designing, I should have an easier time of it, though."

"Of course," the blond agreed with a nod.

"So," Yuuri said with his onyx eyes peering up with warmth in them, "I never really told you 'thank you' for doing that." He got up from his chair. His body was stiff from sitting down in the same position for three hours straight—since his last break to go down to the kitchens and request his lunch be brought to him.

It almost hurt to move. Nonetheless, Yuuri circled the desk to be with Wolfram and stumbled over his own feet.

A pair of hands caught him around the waist and pulled him in. The body was lean, masculine, and all too familiar.

"How long have you been sitting behind that desk?" he demanded to know. Green eyes were annoyed and there was the most adorable pout.

Shyly, Yuuri rested his arms on Wolfram's shoulders and saw a slight blush coming to the blond. "It's not important…how long I've been there." He shrugged a little. "I've got work to do…and I'll do it…just like you." _No matter how dull it is. But being with you now, like this, has made it all worth it. _Yuuri lowered his head a bit, feeling shy all over again for saying what he felt. He could feel Wolfram's concerned stare.

"This isn't like you." A pale hand with narrow fingers fought back black bangs. The palm was slightly cool. Yuuri closed his eyes and pressed into the heavenly feeling. Wolfram was touching his face! The gesture and concern made him happy.

Wolfram's mouth turned down at the edges. "I can't tell if you have a fever or not."

"It's not important," Yuuri said, letting his arms slide down over Wolfram's shoulders and over his arms. Gently, Yuuri rested his chin on Wolfram's shoulder. The warm, summer fragrance of sunflowers came back. Today, the hair smelled like jasmine. _He must be trying a new shampoo._ It was then, that the double black noticed Wolfram's neck was red. He squinted at it. He leaned back and looked again. Wolfram had blushed a deep tomato from his face down to his neck. Briefly, Yuuri wondered how far the blush actually extended down. He tried to peek down the stiff collar. No luck.

"I…um…" was all the blond could say.

"Problem?" Yuuri asked with false innocence. He knew very well what the issue was. And it was great to see Wolfram off balance.

"I think…you should…" He began to untangle himself from his king. If someone should enter, it would look bad—mostly for himself. Yuuri, being single and of a higher status, would be okay. And, somehow, in his heart, that felt totally unfair. The blond tried to shrug off Yuuri's arms.

_Maou!_ Yuuri called in his mind. _Help me again, here. I almost had Wolfram where I wanted him to be. But, he'll avoid me after this. I just know it. Help me… like you did the other day…going to Wolfram's room. I know I'm asking a lot. But this is important and I know you want us to be together…all three of us. I'm really trying here…_

A second ticked by. Then, it came. The answer was a deep laugh that only the double black could hear.

"Hey," the blond practically hissed with hard tugs, now, to back it up, "you need to let me go. We can't do this." Yuuri was spacing out and that annoyed Wolfram. But some part of him was concerned again. Yuuri wasn't acting normally. Why did his face just blank out like that for a second?

The arms held Wolfram tighter. "Let you go? Request denied," Yuuri said with his face close to Wolfram's. There was a possessive look that seemed unnatural to the generally "clueless" double black. A knowing smile came. The blond swallowed hard and watched him transform. The eyes became dark slits, the body grew slightly taller and widened more at the shoulders. Black hair fell to his shoulders, tickling Wolfram's face along the way. There was a cool, blue haze around him that swirled in a slowly opening spiral at their feet.

"Maou?" Wolfram breathed. He sensed the pressure of one hand sliding ever so slowly to the small of his back. It stroked a soft little pattern that Wolfram could feel through his jacket.

"We have a _reminder_ for you, too." The voice was Yuuri's and The Maou's—entwined. Wolfram had never heard their voices like that before.

"We?" He almost squeaked it.

"Yuuri and I… You didn't give Yuuri the chance, you know." The head tilted slightly to see what the blond's reaction would be.

Wolfam's heart drummed in his chest. He couldn't believe that Yuuri would change into The Maou—_now?_—at this moment in time. Once again, there was no danger that he could perceive. The only problem was Yuuri getting too close—again—and giving him false hope.

"The reminder, of course, is this…" The Maou fingered Wolfram's antique neckchain in a smooth, sensuous movement against the cravat. There was a slight weight to the neckchain that Wolfram never noticed until then. With two quick motions, it was off and lying on the desk beside them with a rolling-rattling sound against the wooden tabletop. The cravat was next. _When did he untie that?_ Wolfram wondered vaguely, surprised he could even shift his eyes from his king. Their lips were so close. All one of them had to do was move a little and then… A finger dipped into his collar. It stroked the skin between the dark blue material with gold piping and his pale neck, taking in the firm but soft texture.

Wolfram couldn't breathe. He really couldn't. He could hear the top three buttons being pushed through and feel the material being stretched back. Determined fingers gripped the white shirt. The material ripped, with a harsh sound in his ears, but he didn't care.

"You belong to us," came the husky voice as lips whispered against where his neck and shoulder joined. "Never forget that." Teeth sunk in and Wolfram gasped at the pressure. Fingers traced patterns across his back and a tongue darted at the spot, saliva dripping down in little rills before the next bite came down on the same place. Wolfram leaned his head back and felt the arm around his waist tighten. The fingers clinched into the dark blue material—almost pulling it away from his neck savagely. Another darted tongue followed by another nip. Wolfram rested his hands at The Maou's waist, refusing to let them tremble.

Lips against his skin. His body felt warm. Wolfram moaned. He couldn't stop himself. His head was still tilted back. Still breathing hard, clinging to The Maou.

A vague thought floated. _What if he doesn't stop?_

The door knob rattled with a single knock.

"I'm back and looking for our favorite little prince. Seen him arou-," Yozak said as he entered the room and then stopped in his tracks, rooted to the spot. What he saw took his breath away.

The aura was dark and dangerous. Slowly, The Maou turned to the spy with slitted black eyes that were hungry, feral. He had Wolfram clutched in his arms. But it seemed that the white uniform shirt had been torn away at the collar and was hanging limply. Folds of shredded white material fluttered with the movement of the spiral of energy at their feet.

Getting caught was mortifying for Wolfram. He tucked his face into the side of The Maou's neck with a tearfully whispered "damn it." This had never happened before. So, he didn't know how to react. And, worst of all, he was certain that Conrad would learn of this in an instant.

"Wolfram," The Maou said huskily as he wrapped the blue uniformed soldier closer to his body, "is a little bit busy at the moment. Come back later."

It was an order, not a request.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

It closed with the sound of the wooden door brushing against the frame, and, in that moment, Wolfram slowly released the breath he was holding. He rubbed his misty eyes into The Maou's neck. He wanted to cry. He really did. Everything he'd planned—this discrete life with The Maou—was ruined forever along with what precious little was left of his reputation. He didn't mind people implying he was "the king's slut" when he knew, deep down in his heart, that it wasn't true. But, being caught in the act like this and allowing someone, besides a lover, to see that secret, passionate, part of himself was mortifying.

Wolfram sobbed a little and felt some part of him breaking. _I really am all those things people say…and more..._

"Beloved…"

Wolfram shook his head "no" into The Maou's neck. He didn't want to talk about it.

"Inamorato?" The Maou said very softly, gripped his forearms, and pulled Wolfram away to see his face. What he saw was heartbreaking. Wolfram couldn't look him in the eye. His cheeks were crimson for all the wrong reasons, and he had pearl-like tears sliding down each time he blinked. The worst part was that the blond was trying so hard _not to cry_ and, as a result, his teeth were gritted.

He leaned in. "I'm sorry," The Maou whispered with his face pressed against Wolfram's warm, wet one. "We embarrassed you." Both Yuuri and The Maou's voices spoke at once.

Green eyes flew open at that. "No, you didn't!" Wolfram's arms found their way around his waist. He pressed in with a strong hug to prove his loyalty and determination. "I'm sorry…if I made you think that_." I was being selfish and stupid just now._

"Then…it's being seen with Yuuri that's the problem…?" Dark slitted eyes cut in his direction.

"No…it's being seen _at all_." The blond's heartbeat began to settle down now that he was holding onto The Demon King. He tilted his chin up. "And Yuuri…" Wolfram's dark green eyes met with onyx ones. "You understand our customs…unlike Yuuri. The person who will look bad in this situation is…is me." The blond felt weak just admitting it and leaned against The Maou's chest. He felt a wide palm ruffling his hair. "Instead of running after Yuuri, people will believe that I'm running after The Maou. If I can't have one, I'll have the other. That's what they'll believe. Politically and socially speaking, it would be a reasonable assumption."

"Do reputations really matter?"

Wolfram sighed at that. "You're not the one who will get the strange looks and the whispers. And, once Yuuri comes back, he'll hear of it. And he'll just be embarrassed all over again for something he has no memory of." He rubbed his pale hands against The Maou's back. They were beginning to feel cold.

"My sincerest apologies, Wolfram," The Maou said and embraced the blond gently this time. "As cruel and as self-serving as it sounds, we simply can't let you go."

Wolfram bit his lower lip at that with memories of how he found out about Kumiko and the note falling from Yuuri's pocket. "What I believe is that _you_ can't let me go. Yuuri is another matter entirely." The blond's arms dangled at his sides now and his head bowed.

The Maou made a kind of hum in his throat that was deep and soothing to Wolfram. But, at the same time, it struck him as an almost impatient purr.

"I understand that it feels as though I'm pressuring you into accepting Yuuri back into your life. But…try again…and give him a chance…? You agreed to do that, remember?" The voice had a hint of mischief in it now.

Wolfram wrapped his arms around The Maou's neck. The face was sincere. "I'm confused. It's the only honest answer I can give you. And, for that, I'm sorry…" He returned the hug and wondered, briefly, if The Maou would leave him for being honest. And, if that happened, he wasn't sure what he would do. But, holding back at this point, lying by omission, was not the kind of relationship he could be satisfied with.

The hand ruffled Wolfram's hair again. It found a wheat-colored strand and let it slide through his fingers—root to tip. "Then, don't rush things. Just accept…until you are no longer confused…"

Wolfram snuggled against The Maou. "Until…Yuuri decides that he wants someone else…again… And, then, where does that leave us? Would there even be an 'us' anymore? You're inside of him, right?"

There was a knowing chuckle against his ear. "There will always be an 'us,' Inamorato. Your heart just needs to accept that, too."

* * *

There was knocking at the door. It jarred him out of his thoughts.

_Damn… I really didn't want to get into this…_

The knocking came again. Reluctantly, sky blue eyes drifted to the door and his heart sank a little. He had wanted to avoid this conversation and had stayed in his room to do just that. But, apparently, his feeble plan wasn't going to work. He knew it wouldn't from the start. But it was worth a try—delaying the inevitable.

Yozak, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, picked up the well worn deck of cards and began to shuffle them. "Please come" he said, knowing who was waiting on the other side. His knock was distinctive.

"Yozak? Here you are," Conrad said with a pleasant smile as he entered.

Yozak's room was neat and tidy. He had few possessions because he told himself that he liked to travel light and cleaning had to be quick because he was routinely sent out on assignments. (The maids were never allowed in.) Though, he did make an exception when it came to his work. Yes, he had few worldly goods, but clothing was a different matter entirely because, much like a stage actor, he was constantly getting into "character" as he called it. The closet door was open ajar and a pink ruffled skirt was peeking out. Beneath it, a pair of new boots and a pair of high heeled shoes were side by side. And the bed, where the large man was sitting, was made up with the linens tucked in so tightly that everything seemed painted on.

The orange haired spy worked the cards in his hands. The motions gave him something to do—to buy him enough time to distance himself from his emotions and to be able to return Conrad's smile with a set, yet pleasant, mask.

"Hi," he said and met up with brown eyes.

As expected, Conrad saw right into his soul.

_Damn…_

He had a way of doing that. And his face changed—concern coming to him. Without asking, Conrad sat down on the edge of the bed. "Are you dealing or not?" he asked with a hint of curiosity.

It wasn't about the cards. It never was.

"Yeah…sure," Yozak mumbled, scooted back towards the pillows to give the two of them some room, and half of cards landed softly before the other player. "A game of Dragon Dealers, then…?"

Conrad nodded. This was a simple game that Yozak played whenever something was eating at him. Conrad picked up his cards and patted them into a stack. "Just curious… Did you speak with Wolfram today? You mentioned that you would when you got back from your mission in town."

Yozak, lips parted slightly, took a slow, deep breath and let it out as quietly as possible.

Brown eyes glanced up. _Not good…_ Once again, Conrad straightened up his stack of face down cards—not that it really mattered, but he'd play along as usual.

"Speak to him? No." He pursed his lips together, seemingly to concentrate on starting the game. "Saw him…yes."

Conrad tilted his head to one side, giving Yozak a curious stare. "If you saw him, why didn't you ask him…about…?"

Yozak took the top card from his stack, turned it over, and placed it down on the mattress. Conrad did the same. Conrad's card was a jack and Yozak's card was a 4.

"Pay me," Conrad said, pointing to his jack.

Yozak nodded absently and gave his 4 over along with an additional card from his stack.

Conrad flipped the face down card over to see what he'd gotten. "You've given me an ace."

"Yeah," the spy said as a sigh, but he wasn't really paying attention.

They started again.

"I saw your brother," Yozak said,"…in the maou's office…" He lowered his head slightly. "…_with_ The Maou."

"You mean Yuuri?" He sounded confused.

"I didn't say _'the kiddo._'" Yozak muttered grimly. "I said _'The Maou_'." There was stress in Yozak's voice to communicate more. But, Conrad seemed to be either numb or dumb—he wasn't sure which.

"What were they doing?" Conrad asked, the cards forgotten.

Yozak rolled his eyes. "You're sitting with me… _on my bed_…and you have to ask that question?"

"No!" Conrad breathed. His eyes wide.

"Yeah, I know…" Uncomfortable, he turned his face away and wished he could be somewhere else with someone else. Not growing up with a family of his own made family ties an uncomfortable thing to be exposed to. This was why confessing his feelings to Conrad wasn't possible even if Tra'va had encouraged him to do so.

"I hate asking but…"

Yozak raised an eyebrow to that question. "How far did they go…?" The spy scooted back on the bed a bit more. Casually, he rested his body against the headboard with his beefy arms folded against his chest. "Would you want someone to ask that question about…me?"

Slowly, Conrad put down the stack of cards and it slid away into a horizontal fan. "This isn't about us, you know."

_It never is… That's why Wolfram and I have more in common than people realize._ With a noncommittal shrug, he answered, "I think…it would feel the same…" Then, he folded his arms behind his head, trying to look relaxed, even though he didn't feel it. "But, I will say this… The Maou saw me and kicked me out of the office. And he can be really scary when he's…_interrupted_."

Brown eyes widened. "I'm-going-to-have-a-talk-with-Yuuri." He ran the words together into a blur.

Yozak turned his sky blue eyes away. "I know."

"I'm sorry," Conrad added as an after thought, realizing that there were other things between them left unsaid.

"No problem," Yozak returned with a thin smile as he straightened up. "Come back when you feel like it." He leaned forward with an outstretched hand and scooped up the scattered cards.

He was straightening the unruly pile into a neat stack when he glanced up to see that Conrad was still standing there with a strange expression on his face.

"You'd better go," Yozak said, dismissing him.

"Yozak…I…"

Without looking up, his hands worked the cards. "Bye…"

"Umm…right…"

The door opened and closed again.

_That's my job,_ he thought as he shuffled the cards and then got ready for a game of solitaire. _I look around and I tell what I see. It's what I'm good for. And that's why you came here tonight. It's probably the only reason why… But, I'm fine with that, too._

Yozak began to lay the cards out in the shape of a pyramid.

_The next time you want something, Conrad… I'll be here…as always…when you want me._

He turned the first card over. It was the ten of spades.

* * *

Wolfram's dark green eyes darted left and right. He'd been doing that since the moment he'd scuttled off to his bedroom to change his ripped, white shirt. Giving up on having it repaired, he'd dumped it in the trash along with a lot of other things he decided to get rid of—namely the charred remains of more "letters of interest" from potential lovers and others wanting a political alliance. Luckily, Gwendal was of the opinion that it was too soon for his little brother to find a new mate. Nonetheless, the perfumed messages were sent directly to Wolfram who was only too eager to burn each one individually, bottom up, in his bedroom while crushing the paper angrily in his shaking grasp.

_No guards along this hallway… Good…_

He walked along. Then, the sound of boots caught Wolfram's ears. The ex-prince growled at the noise and ducked into the nearest doorway to hide. He was alone and wanted to remain that way for now. Stepping backwards, he found himself in a storage closet with buckets, mops, and brooms. He left the door open just a crack and peeked to see who it was.

Brown hair passed by.

_Conrad, huh? I'll bet he went looking for Yuuri first, though._ Wolfram's face hardened at that. If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have wound up having an unwanted, not to mention _uncomfortable_, conversation with his older brother. The blond was waiting for the footsteps to fade when he heard the sound of a crisp series of knocks on his bedroom door. _He thinks I'm there. Well, you're wrong, Conrad. I guess, "Mr. Perfect" can't be right all the time_, he thought wryly.

"Wolfram?" The voice, at this distance and from inside a closet, sounded muffled.

No answer.

Another knock.

Wolfram almost wanted to laugh at that but stopped himself. And he was quite pleased until his ears caught the unmistakable groan of his door opening.

"Wolfram?"

_Oh, I forgot to lock my door. That's even better! Once he's in there, I can make it down the hall and back into Gwendal's office._ He crossed his fingers that Gwendal hadn't been informed yet. _No, it would have to be Conrad first._ _Yozak and Conrad are close. Still, it's only a matter of time before Gwendal knows and the rest of the castle will follow thanks to Yozak's big mouth. I was a fool for ever confiding in him in the past._

Wolfram chewed his lower lip a little and wondered what Gwendal would do to him for making out in Yuuri's office. _And_, he recalled with a hand to his lips_, a little more than that._ Two sets of dark eyes haunted him. _Probably nothing_, he reasoned. _What could he do? But, still… Just when it felt that I got his respect back…_

There were footsteps going into Wolfram's room. And the blond took that moment to walk briskly out of the closet.

_I don't know what to do right now…other than finish my work for the day and go to dinner. Then again, I might take it in my room and avoid everyone. We'll see._

Around the corner skipped a shadow before Wolfram could do anything about it.

"Hello, Papa Wolfram! The person I was coming to see," Greta said cheerfully. She walked up to him and smiled prettily. "Can I sit between you and Yuuri Daddy at dinner again tonight?"

Wolfram, taken aback, nodded like a wide-eyed and floppy puppet. "Oh…hello, Greta," he said with a bit of a forced grin. "I wasn't expecting to see you…_here_… Ummm…. Dinner? Dinner… Oh, _dinner_! Well, of course you can sit between us." He raked his fingers through his hair nervously, glancing over his shoulder briefly at his bedroom. "In fact, from now on…we'll have you do just that."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her around the corner with a smile that was just a tad too big.

"Thank you!" she said happily. "Oh, and can we _work on_ getting my hair dyed like yours?"

They stopped. Rooted.

Wolfram cocked his head to one side and eyed her suspiciously. "So, that's the reason why you're glad to see me."

"No, no," she said with palms out in a "stop" motion, but her voice betrayed her ulterior motive only too easily. "I'm always glad to see you."

"Ah…right…"

As he rested his hands on his hips, Wolfram thought, _Oh, the joys of parenting…_

* * *

"Wolfram…? Are you in here?" Conrad called as he walked around and checked out the small private bath.

Nothing.

Nobody.

He stepped back into the bedroom and frowned as he took in what was before him. There were two boxes with only the necessities inside. And the four poster bed was made in the usual blue hues. It suddenly struck him how little Wolfram was putting into his new space, his surroundings. And the realization made Conrad's concern for his little brother grow. Unlike Yozak's utilitarian room, Wolfram's bedrooms always had some hint of being neat but lived in. Some part of his personality—his likes, hopes, and dreams—could be found there.

But this space was cold, impersonal—forlorn, in a way.

"I suppose, I'll keep looking…" he said to himself as he passed the trashcan and his eyes caught something fluffy inside.

_What is…?_ He reached in and retrieved the remains of what appeared to be a white dress shirt. Conrad recognized it immediately as a part of his brother's uniform. He held it up and noticed that the collar had been, inexplicably, torn to shreds and one of the buttons had gone missing. Something fluttered down to the floor. Brown eyes blinked, looking for it. Then, he noticed that inside the trash there were the charred remains of handwritten letters. _Not all of them have been burned completely,_ he thought as he peered in owlishly. The ones on top, the last few letters in the stack, he guessed, were not burned to ash. It was then that he realized what had drifted to the floor. It was one of the letters. He picked it up and it unfolded, the charred parts curled and twisted. It wasn't his intention to invade his brother's privacy, but he could easily read phrases such as "…beauty beyond compare…" and "…advantageous political alliance…" It reeked of perfume.

Conrad tossed the shirt and the burnt letter into the trash (but tore the paper into pieces first so that the maids wouldn't have more gossip fodder). What caused Wolfram's shirt to be in such a state, Conrad couldn't even begin to guess. But it certainly wasn't from being happy or secure. He assumed that much at least. And the letters were no different than the batch Wolfram had been given in Gwendal's office. So, there was pressure on Wolfram, even now, to move on with his life. But was Wolfram even ready for that? Under all of the sadness and anger, Conrad knew that his brother still loved and wanted Yuuri. But what he wasn't certain of was The Maou. Was his brother being forced into a relationship with The Demon King or was he settling for something—even something temporary—because it was better than being alone and this person so closely resembled Yuuri?

With renewed determination, he went in search of the double black. Conrad decided it was time to have another discussion about Wolfram.

* * *

There was a sound behind Yuuri and he turned, startled. "Oh, Conrad! It's good to see you." He smiled warmly at his godfather for a second before turning back to the scenery. Lately, when he needed to think, he somehow found his way onto the balcony. The best view of Shin Makoku really was from his room.

"It's good to see you, too."

Conrad walked through the king's bedroom, but couldn't help himself. His eyes looked for any trace of Wolfram being there: a brush, spare uniform, socks. There wasn't any. He wasn't sure if he should have felt relieved about that or not.

Yuuri's finger traced the edge of the railing, back and forth. "I've been trying to hide from Günter. Today's lesson on ancient forms of surgery was making me…" He turned all sorts of shades at the thought. "…kind of sick."

The corner of Conrad's mouth twitched into smile at that. His godson didn't have a very strong stomach.

"Really?" He had to fight down a chuckle. "Well, I dropped by…to discuss something…"

Yuuri nodded at that. "I thought you would." His mind flashed back to his moment with Wolfram. The blond wanted him to let go and was planning on leaving the office. The struggle wasn't hard—using full strength. But Wolfram meant every word he said. The Maou had taken over at his insistence and then there was nothing—like falling into a deep, black well, while his other "self" stepped in. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. But, when he returned, he was standing in front of a window with Wolfram wrapped securely in his arms. They were both staring out at the scenery.

"Wolf…ram?" Yuuri turned and noticed that Wolfram's face was wet. "Did something happen…?" The double black fretted that The Maou may have gone too far with Wolfram, to claim him as his own. They had to go slow with the ex-prince. Too much had happened between them. So, taking their time together, getting to know each other again, was vital.

"It's nothing," Wolfram said, his expression hardened now that he could see he was with Yuuri and not The Maou.

Onyx eyes showed concern anyway and he placed a hand against Wolfram's cheek—wiping away what was left of the tears. "I don't understand." Fingers threaded through sandy locks. A hand was at Wolfram's back, gently nudging him forward. He rested his forehead against Wolfram's and he felt the other stiffen a little, holding his emotions in.

His voice was soft. "Please, tell me."

"We were caught…_together_." His voice almost a whisper.

Yuuri tried to let it sink in. _Caught…?_ Then, his eyes _caught_ something—the shredded shirt. He tilted his head down slightly and examined the cloth. "What did…?"

"The shirt is nothing." _It's nothing compared to the way I feel right now._

"Who saw, then?"

The blond's body wanted to crumble at the question. It was a natural thing to ask, but painful. "Yozak. He came in here looking for me." Then, a bitter laugh intended only for himself, the only person who could truly feel the irony. "But I'm sure he saw a lot more than he bargained for." He shook his head "no" and eyes filled with tears again, replaying the memory.

_Tears…_ He gave an even look to that. "Wolfram…?"

Green eyes glanced up—dark green, not emerald.

"I really have made your life a living Hell…huh?"

Blinking his misty eyes, Wolfram's face set itself into a deeply etched frown. He glanced at the floor. _I don't need your pity… Yours or anyone else's. _He wanted to storm off to prove that it was all untrue and that he could handle anything his ex-fiancé could dish out, but the double black was holding him tightly in place. His lone attempt to step away only resulted in them both getting jostled.

"Let go," Wolfram said weakly.

Yuuri put two fingers under Wolfram's chin and tilted it up. Seeing eye to eye. "No."

It was the same answer that The Maou gave him. Wolfram wanted to scream in frustration and beat something. Yes, scream or cry his heart out—one of them.

"I want to end this. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

The ex-prince straightened to his full height. "You can't hurt me. So, don't worry."

_Even now, he's bluffing. Then, let's see what he does…_

"'Nothing,' you say?"

He got a cold nod.

Yuuri placed his palm on the back of Wolfram's head and stroked downwards, taking in the feeling of every silky strand. It earned him a curious look.

"Say 'goodbye' to the way things are now."

_What is Yuuri…?_

"No more," he said as a sigh as he leaned in and pressed his lips against Wolfram's. It took bravery to do it. The blond was either going to fight him or accept. But, if it was a fight that he'd have to go through, he was willing to do it.

Even though the kiss was gentle, there was a slight gasp at that. Yuuri didn't bother to look. He was focused on something else, and he was repositioning the blond in his arms. Wolfram, like a sleepwalker, was being directed backwards. And his body ended up in a chair by the window. But the kiss was never broken and he widened his eyes at the shocking sight. Yuuri, his king, was kneeling beside the chair, hands clasped over the blond's in a tight grip.

"Wha…" _What are you…?_ He began to say, opening his mouth, but Yuuri took that opportunity to deepen the kiss. There was a pleasured hum in Yuuri's throat which melted the last of Wolfram's reserve.

The next thing the double black knew, he was on his back, legs splayed, lying on the office rug, with Wolfram atop him—kissing back. It was great having his ex-fiancé like that. He smiled into the kiss, reached up, and wrapped his arms around a lithe waist.

Wolfram stopped suddenly with a shake of the head 'no." He said to himself, "This isn't good. I could get caught again."

A slight chuckle from below.

"I won't hold it against you," Yuuri said from underneath and tugged at the white, dangling strip of cloth. Tan fingers took the longest strip and batted Wolfram's cheek with it playfully.

_Oh, you think this is funny, huh?_

Wolfram folded his arms on Yuuri's chest and rested his chin down—eyes meeting. What he was going to say was obvious and tiresome. "The sad truth is…our engagement is over and you're a single king. You're fine." He blinked slowly like a sleepy cat. "Me? I never married the king…which questions my honor. By being with you…like this now…" He looked down at himself. "I'm lowering myself to the ranks of a concubine at best and a whore at worst. The king's pleasure toy."

Black eyebrows pushed together. "No! And this castle is just as much your home as it is mine. No one will think that of you." His hands bunched into the blue military coat. He needed to hold onto him, to prove he was right.

"You're so naïve," Wolfram laughed bitterly. There was a shake of his shaggy head. "They think that now."

* * *

It was time for dinner. Yuuri and Conrad entered together. Conrad tried to hide his frustrations behind a bland smile. While chatting on the balcony, he had made several attempts to get more specifics out of his godson, but didn't manage any better than learning more details about "the hickey incident" as he labeled it in his mind. Yuuri just kept staring off into space and mumbling words under his breath.

"Yuuri Daddy!" Greta called with a friendly wave.

Yuuri blinked hard at the table and then reminded himself that Greta was now the one who had to sit beside him. Günter emphasized that point today before the lessons started as a "protocol" review. Feeling a dark scribbled feeling over his heart, he tried his best not to show it. Though a part of him really wanted to shout in frustration, "Okay, I got it! I got it!" He sighed instead.

Wolfram was sitting there with a sharp look in his eyes that bordered on jealousy. Yuuri assumed it was because he'd entered the room with Conrad. Ordinarily, that would be the reason. And that made some part of him truly happy. He now knew it was more than possible to get Wolfram to care for him again. But something Conrad said, when they were talking earlier, got him thinking. And he would just have to do it because it was the only honorable way. What he'd learned from this situation with Wolfram was the necessity to do things properly. Worst of all, sometimes, you had to be cruel to be kind.

The servants came in with the soup and placed the china bowls before everyone. Yuuri could smell the delicious aroma. _This,_ he thought, _I can handle much better than the purple mashed something-or-other we had at breakfast._

"Itadakimasu," Yuuri said and tried the soup. The others joined in quickly enough and the small talk around the table became a low murmur.

"Oh, Heika," Günter said, "my sincerest apologies regarding the lesson for today. I had forgotten how delicate your system is in regards to biological processes."

"Lesson…? 'Biological processes'…?" Wolfram asked himself curiously. Then, he blew on his spoonful of hot soup.

"It involved blood and guts, I bet!" Greta said with a wolfish grin and watched her father's face make a sort of quirky sickness-induced grimace.

Wolfram sighed "wimp" and then opened his mouth to take in the spoonful.

Hands clasped and eyes sparkling, Günter said, "Tomorrow's lesson will be much better. We'll discuss fewer surgical processes and will focus on healing herbs and techniques for the battlefield."

"That's not a bad topic," Gwendal said with some approval, "in case of emergencies."

"I agree. First aid knowledge can never go to waste… even though The Maou is very powerful," Gisela commented with a wink at Murata Ken. He grinned back openly at her.

Yuuri placed his hand behind his head sheepishly. "Sorry…I can't."

Wolfram dropped the spoon into his bowl. It made a clattering sound that silenced the room. Everyone stared curiously.

For the briefest second, Wolfram relived all of those moments when Yuuri went off to Earth…_to cheat_. It was always the same scenario. They would be talking about plans for the next day and then Yuuri would act—just like that—and would say those exact same words.

"I choked a little," he lied, eyes tearing up. He cleared his throat by coughing into his fist, nails biting into his palm. "My apologies…"

Murata Ken saw it. His eyes flicked back and forth between Yuuri and Wolfram. With a serious stare, he stirred his soup with the spoon, but his thoughts roamed elsewhere.

"But, going back to Heika…" Günter said, "Why can't you?" His mouth was turned down and his eyes sad. If he was going to miss out on his "Heika Time," Günter wanted to know the reason why. Unbeknownst to Yuuri, he loved tutoring him so much that he would often sit up late into the night making lesson plans.

"I'm going back to Earth for awhile."

Yuuri said it, and Wolfram mouthed the words in his head.

"Really?" Greta grinned. "Can you bring me back some Pocky? I like the strawberry kind!"

"Sure," he said and rubbed her shoulder kindly.

Yuuri looked to Wolfram to see his reaction. Wolfram tasted his soup, seemingly, without a care in the world. On the inside, though, he was berating himself. He was growing too attached to Yuuri again. And, truly, no happiness would ever come of it. _Fool…_

"And, when I come back," Yuuri said to Gwendal, "I want to discuss Wolfram's duties. I have something in mind."

That was it! The blond turned with a sudden ferocity, sparks flying from his fingers, and leaned forward to look past Greta. "Wait! Just the two of you? Shouldn't I be in on this meeting? It is about me, you know!" Each word rising—ending in a thunderous roar.

Unperturbed, Yuuri tilted his head to one side, put his finger to his lips and thought about it. "Oh…well… I see our point…" Then, he gave a nod of determination. "But the answer's still 'no'."

"Wha-?" Green eyes bugged out.

"He _is_ our king," Günter hissed with an unusually stern look which said "respect him or else."

Wolfram gave an equally challenging glare, determined to get his way, until he heard his brother say, "Fine, I'll speak with Yuuri Heika when he gets back."

_What? No!_

Upset, Wolfram turned to Gwendal. _How can he do this to me…? In front of everyone…?_ "But…brother…!"

Gwendal returned with a hawkishly dangerous look.

And that was the end of it.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this, Shibuya?" Murata Ken asked with a curious lilt in his voice. It was a steamy day in Japan and he had his glasses off—polishing them with his handkerchief.

"Yeah," Yuuri replied as the two of them walked toward the library. "I've got to see Kumiko again." He took his phone out and flipped it open. "I think I'll call her to meet me." He went down the menu on the phone, searching for her name.

The sage nodded at that and then pointed in the direction of the building. The community library was designed in a 1950's bland style that closely resembled a rather large, dull brick that was decorated with smaller bricks—giving an overall "brick-ish" feeling to it. Boring in every aspect. But, it was the place where they met outside of school, and their homes, when they pretended to "study" together. The small woodland park behind it was good for their trysts as well. There were a few benches out of sight where they could be alone and unseen.

"There's no need to call," Murata said. "She's right over there."

By the entrance, Kumiko stood with her pink mobile phone in hand and the little bear key chain swinging gleefully from it. Her black eyes widened with joy when she saw Yuuri.

"Yes! Yuuri!" She shouted—running for him with her curtain of hair trailing behind like a blue-black, glossy veil. "It's the last day of our summer vacation. I haven't seen you in awhile and you haven't returned any of my calls. It's been forever!"

Kumiko hugged him warmly around the waist with her head on his shoulder. It no longer bothered her that Murata was watching. He'd caught them doing it before. Kissing, too.

Murata stood by with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish grin painted on his face for Kumiko's benefit. But, then his eyes drifted in Yuuri's direction. The look he gave was different. It struck Yuuri as that of an old man—weathered, sincere, understanding. But there was something pained in it, too, like reminiscing over the cause of an old injury that never quite healed properly.

"I'm going inside. See you tomorrow, Shibuya." And, with that, the sage disappeared into the library.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

.

* * *

**Author's note**: A special "thank you" goes out to Sindy, a reviewer of the previous chapter, who had some distinctive lines that I used for Kumiko. It's a little out of context from the review, but the sentiment's the same. *smirk*

* * *

Shirtless and fatigued, Yozak was lying on his bed with his right arm draped over the side, resting in a bucket of ice. He'd just dragged himself back from what was supposed to be a "simple assignment" in town keeping tabs on a suspicious character Gwendal believed to be smuggling stolen barrels of spiced wine into human territories. Unfortunately, said character had more than a taste for wine. He had a taste for women as well. And Yozak just happened to notice the petite barmaid from the Trumpet and Dog Tavern being dragged into the alley the second she tried to take the trash out back. The wide hand over her mouth dug into her cheek as she struggled against him. Her muffled shrieks drove out some unsavory Mazoku who chose to leave her to her fate. Yozak, cursed under his breath, straightened his blond wig, hitched up his skirt, stomped into the alley, and gave the man a good dose of feminism right in the happy sacks.

Yozak hit the man so hard that his knuckles bled. But, the jerk—bald head, rotten teeth, and crow-like eyes—had, obviously, received some kind of military training in the past because he got a few punches in before Yozak had him whimpering on the ground grabbing his crotch.

Yozak sighed, feeling his chin and cheek swelling up. There would be bruises tomorrow and he'd have to go see Gisela before making his report to Gwendal. The good news? They had the man in jail now. The bad news? It wasn't for smuggling.

The spy's eyes closed very slowly, his hand freezing and stiff. But, it didn't matter. At least, he wasn't hurting.

The world faded away with a velvet touch.

"Yozak?" a voice said from above him.

Yozak tried to roll over, but his body refused to obey. His hand was unnaturally heavy, cold, dripping. Wearily, he dropped it back into the bucket with a slosh.

"Yozak…" There was an edge in the voice now.

"Hm?"

Blue eyes opened with a squint.

Towering above him was a familiar sight—Conrad. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with something in his hands.

"Wake up."

Yozak rubbed his left eye with his left hand and noticed that his right wasn't in the bucket anymore.

The "just wakening" look on Yozak's face was cute and Conrad smiled at that. The "confused Yozak" expression that came next was even better—alluring, if not amusing.

"So, what happened?" Conrad asked, holding the spy's right hand in both of his. "Your skin is freezing." He rubbed harder. "Can you even feel this?"

Yozak blinked back at him. "Well, to answer your questions: A 'mission' that gave me a little trouble and…'no'."

"You really can't _feel this_?" Conrad frowned openly and did his best to warm the swollen knuckled hand in his. He puffed some air on it and squeezed firmly at the heel of the hand—working the pressure down to the fingertips.

It was cold. Conrad could feel his fingers getting chilled from the contact. But, he continued anyway.

Yozak watched him with sleepy detachment. If this was a dream, he'd enjoy it. If this was not a dream, he'd deal with any consequences tomorrow.

"It's really unwise to fall asleep with your hand in a bucket of ice, Yozak. Don't do this again," he admonished as he stretched the fingers out. The spy winced but Conrad showed the flesh no mercy. "You'll either get sick or frostbite." He puffed on the hand once more and, this time, he could feel heat coming back into it. "Come to think of it, your face looks like you took a few blows, too."

"I've felt worse," he chuckled back. "In fact, we both have."

Conrad gave a nod to that, remembering their past. It was true. And it was remarkable that they were both still alive after their many battles. Then, he decided to change the subject. "I heard you'd come back…asking for ice from the kitchen..." he explained as he rubbed, "…and, then, you didn't answer my knock at the door... So, I let myself in with your spare key."

"It's not a spare," Yozak corrected. "It's _your_ key."

The ghost of a smile came and went. He frowned a little at himself. "Maybe, I shouldn't have…but I was worried."

The spy quirked a sheepish grin and said, "Worried about me? I'm flattered…not angry…"

"Then, I suppose…I should be going…" Conrad released the hand and moved to stand up, but something had caught onto his sleeve. He glanced down.

Yozak had a hand on the material and was tugging to get his attention.

"Stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly. There was a coy glance from the bed that followed.

"Tonight…?" Conrad tilted his head to one side to regard him and then sat back down. "I guess, someone has to stay here and see to you. Your face is swelling and only just now did I get circulation back into your hand." Then, he leaned over the orange haired man and said, "Plus, sleeping with your shirt off like this will get you sick, too."

"I'm a hopeless case," Yozak agreed easily and moved over so that Conrad could lie next to him.

Conrad turned away slightly, pushed hard, and slipped off his well polished boots. "Give me a minute." With care and respect, he unbuttoned his uniform coat starting at the throat. Then, arms up and the undershirt. The belt was next—followed by trousers hitting the floor.

Lying back with his fingers resting against his chest, Yozak admired the show with the feeling of a purr in his soul. His bedmate was tall and toned. Luckily for him, the room was cool and the muscles stood out a little against the chill.

Brown eyes darted in his direction. "Something?"

"Oh, no," Yozak returned, fighting back a grin. "It's just been awhile…that's all…"

"Agreed," Conrad said gently as he retrieved his clothes from the floor and draped them over the chair next to the closet.

Conrad turned back to see that Yozak had not only turned down the covers but had tucked himself inside. He patted the mattress next to him with a wiggly eyebrow for emphasis. Amused, Conrad "humphed" a kind of laugh as he walked toward the bed in only his standard issue black thong.

Lifting back the covers to get inside, he peeked in at Yozak. His stomach, waist, and legs were well proportioned and beefy. "How did you change out of your trousers so quickly?" It was truly a marvel how fast the spy could shed his clothing.

"Practice makes perfect. And I'm in disguise a lot on my assignments, you see."

"You're right," Conrad said, rolling onto his side while snuggling into the sheets and pulling the blankets up to his neck. As usual, they smelled like Yozak—a kind of earthy, masculine scent edged with spice.

Under the covers, an arm rested across Conrad's waist and he could feel Yozak's chest against his bare back. "I'm trying not to touch you with this hand," the orange haired spy explained, "because it's still freezing cold."

"I don't mind," he returned kindly and placed his hand on top to warm it again. Then, to Yozak's surprise, Conrad guided it to his chest—directly over his heart—fingers linked together. The arm tightened and the two spooned. Their bodies were more than close. They seemed to fit together perfectly.

"Thank you," he said and Conrad turned his head slightly to make eye contact, curious.

"…For…?" Brown eyes searched him for something.

The palm pressed a little into his chest, feeling the beats. "For this… I'm happy."

Conrad smiled to himself at that. "Happy? I wish I could make my brothers happy by doing something simple to help them out. It's frustrating right now."

"So, that's what's on your mind," he said. "I noticed the worry lines. You'll end up like Gwendal if you're not careful."

"I don't really worry about Gwendal all too often," Conrad replied, "he seems married to his work and he's content with that."

Yozak chuckled deviously into his back.

"I amuse you. I'm glad."

Not being able to hold in his mirth, the spy pressed a smile into his back that he could feel quite easily. "I'd say you're right. Gwendal, definitely, does not cuddle his work at night. So, don't worry about that."

"What…are you saying?" He quirked a brown eyebrow.

"Not to tell tales," Yozak began.

"But, you will. Won't you?"

He rested his head against Conrad for a second. "I will…for you…" Then, he continued with, "Your brother spends his nights with someone…just like we do sometimes…if you get my meaning."

"Really? I can't believe…"

There was a laugh at that. He knew more about Gwendal than his own brothers did. "I didn't mean to learn this, but it just kind of happened one night." He hugged Conrad against himself. "Let's just say that his visits to Anissina's Lab aren't just for experiments." And then he added, "Quite a duet…those two can sing." He snickered into Conrad once more and felt an elbow jab at him lightly in the stomach.

"I think that's enough."

"Well, it would be," he said with the glow leaving him a bit, "with the exception of the times that Raven comes to the castle."

"Raven?"

Now, it didn't seem quite so funny anymore. He paused to pick his words carefully. "Deep down…I think she really likes Raven, too. I've seen the two of them at banquets and meetings…and they seem to have that _spark_…that chemistry… But, of course, your mother…" _Your mother knows and doesn't like it. Either way, Anissina's better off single…just like me…_

"Oh, I see…"

There was a lull in the conversation. And Yozak wondered, briefly, if he'd said too much. He probably had. In future, he might want to keep more to himself. His relationship with Conrad rolled with the tides—which was much easier than publicly falling for someone who outranked him socially and politically. If things changed, it would be awkward—starting, first, with Gwendal—and he'd have to fight to keep the privacy he had now because Conrad would want to include him in family events. And, no matter how he looked at it, Conrad's family was a little bit _warped_. "I'm sorry… Maybe, I shouldn't have said anything. Don't think badly of Gwendal and Anissina. And the same goes for the kiddo and your brother, Wolfram. It's just…for some people…love isn't enough." He rested his forehead against his bedmate and thought of the singles around the castle. Married couples were in short supply. "Then again, that's probably true for most people…I think."

There was a quiet moment after that with Conrad's mind being occupied, mulling over what he'd said.

"Yozak?"

"Yes, Conrad?" he said the name gently in his ear.

"Can I ask you something else…?" With them both shirtless, he could feel the heartbeat against his back pick up at the question.

"Hmmm?" A note of curiosity.

"Sleepy? If you are, I'll blow out the candle."

_That's it…? That was his question?_ There was a brief silence.

"Not particularly." A gentle, contented hum followed it. With Conrad in his bed like this, he'd enjoy the warmth and closeness all night long, even if that meant staying awake the whole time. Listening to Conrad's soft sighs stroked his soul. Nothing else was like it. "I'm wide awake now."

"Me, too." He brightened a little, turned, and stretched—resting on his back. Under the covers, he trailed his finger down Yozak's side and said in a rich, sexy voice, "Wanna play cards?"

Yozak laughed boyishly at that, and it made Conrad's heart beat hard. It wasn't often he could do it, because he couldn't tell a joke to save his life. But when he managed to make him laugh out loud, it was pure gold.

Brown hair fell across his eyes, casting them in shadow. It was the only movement. Without shifting his body in the slightest, he asked, "Do you want to play Dragon Dealers?"

"I…dunno…" He felt a blush coming to his face as the finger returned to his side—drawing little swirling patterns and dipping into his navel.

In seconds, Yozak found himself on his back with Conrad on top, pressed into him. Their right hands were laced together. Serious brown eyes met wide blue. There was a hazy lust in them, too. "Let's play a game…of hearts…"

The orange-framed face went from "surprised" to "highly amused." He tightened the grip on their laced fingers. "Okay…we'll play…_hearts_…" Then, he thought about it. "What happens if I win?" he asked playfully.

"I'll stay in your bed for another night." The words were whispered in his ear. But a mouth slowly took the shell-like ear and bit down into it sensuously. A wet tongue traced the curve.

He threw his head back with a small gasp and asked, "And…if I lose…?"

A kiss behind his ear. The right side of his thong was snapped hard against his skin.

"I'll stay in your bed for a lifetime."

Disbelieving, Yozak shook his head "no" at that. "That's not a promise you can make. What we have now…isn't so bad, huh? Think again." He stroked Conrad's back with his left hand, trying to get him to agree. He just had to. This idea was ridiculous. The last thing Conrad needed was to be chained to a person unworthy of him.

Conrad leaned in. Their foreheads rested together. "I can…and I want to…" Hands caressed thick shoulders and biceps in a single, silky motion.

_He's…serious…?_

Their lips drew nearer and Yozak arched up to meet him.

Conrad drew back, eyed him suspiciously, and asked, "So, are you going to play or not?"

Mischievous blue eyes looked at him. A hand reached up to brush brown hair away to the side of his face. "Then, I'll be prepared to play…and _lose_."

"Hmmm… That might take awhile. You're difficult, stubborn, determined, thrill seeking…"

"Yeah," Yozak laughed, "I love you, too."

* * *

"Hmmm…._Yuuri-kun_…"

They were in the park behind the library, holding hands. Kumiko was on her toes, kissing Yuuri slowly and with purpose.

The double black's heart was beating hard and out of rhythm. It was becoming uncomfortable with each second that ticked on. A hundred thoughts came at him at once. Words, voices—speaking, shouting, crying—merged and clashed.

Yuuri's mind flashed. The memory was painful. It burned behind his eyes.

_A fanged smile grinned at him. "If I do my job right, when this is all over with…" Trouble glared defiantly with Wolfram's face "Wolfram will be able to look deeply into your eyes…and feel…nothing." _

"_And you can do that…permanently?" _Anger boiled up inside of him so quickly, he didn't think he would be able to contain it. Then, all too easily, his control slipped. _I won't allow it!" he heard himself roar back. _

Yuuri remembered the feeling of his body wanting to change. His eyes threatening to turn into dark slits as his voice deepened.

"_I've been doing it for awhile now!" Trouble bellowed and immediately threw up a shield, palms flat pressing it into place. A blast of blue light hit the purple barrier and ricocheted into the wall._

Yuuri's dark eyes scrunched shut as he took back his hand and gently eased the girl off of him. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"Why?" Kumiko asked, uncertain as to the reason why her boyfriend was suddenly not liking this. Until recently, he'd enjoy it—encourage it, even—and wanted more. She looked around.

_Maybe_, she thought, _someone is watching._

"Well…Kumiko-chan…"

"Darling…?" She clasped her hands together and said in a soft voice. "Is Murata-kun going to get the hotel room key for us tonight?" She worried her narrow lower lip between her teeth and a blush came to her. "I'm fine with that…or we can go to the Love Hotel ourselves… It's not that expensive, and I've been working all summer at my part-time job…" The pause that followed completed the rest of her thought.

She moved a long strand of blue-black hair behind her ear. _He's probably shy about this, but I've done it before. It's so easy._

Kumiko tilted her face up expectantly.

"I've…um…got something I want to tell you. Let's just have a seat here." He motioned to the wooden park bench.

"Yes?" she said. She eyed him and noticed his face had fallen. It had to be bad news because _her Yuuri_ was always so bright and happy.

"I guess there's no easy way to say it." He sighed to himself and reached into his pocket. "I came back to give you this." The double black handed her the purple inked note. It wasn't in the same condition it was when she'd left it for him. She had expected him to treat it with importance, with deep meaning. But, it was mashed carelessly and the edges curled and split—like an old worksheet left in the bottom of a locker at the end of the year.

Feeling tears coming, Kumiko's eyes blinked as she turned the crushed note over in her hands. Everything that she felt—all of her feelings and desires—had been written down for him to see.

"You're…breaking up with me?" she said incredulously. "I don't understand." Her eyes flew from the note to his face to see his reaction.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Was it because I wouldn't sleep with you until I knew you were serious about me?" she said quietly with a sob at the end.

"B-But… I-I never asked you to do that!" Yuuri sputtered, all sense of volume gone. Actually, it was much louder than he intended. Some sparrows got startled and flew off.

"Yes, you did!" she barked. "You had your hands all over me!"

"I…I mean…you…and me…. Well…" He didn't know what to say to that. He thought she'd wanted it, too.

Kumiko leaned forward, fury taking the place of hurt, and yelled, "Yuuri! You idiot! I want to kick your butt so much!"

The double black's jaw dropped a bit. Kumiko was practically shouting in his face, hands balled up, and ready to swing at the slightest provocation. In that moment, he was glad she wasn't a Mazoku with an element to wield.

"Look, Kumiko-chan, I already said that I'm sorry." He put his palms out defensively and a feminine fist smacked into it with force. "Can't you understand? It's nobody's fault. It just didn't work out."

"What?" she fumed. "I did everything that you wanted. I-I…let you…" She growled through gritted teeth, " Oh, you're such a jerk."

He shook his head in agreement. "You can blame me to your friends when they ask. I'm fine with that."

"Fine?!" she squeaked. And, then her face changed as her brain finally kicked into gear. "The only way you'd take the blame and be fine with it…is…" In seconds, the Japanese girl's face turned blood red with rage. "You found someone else! That's it! Isn't it, Yuuri-kun?"

Images of a certain blond bishonen flashed in Yuuri's mind. Wolfram reading Greta a story. Wolfram in the garden picking roses. Wolfram sparring with his soldiers, training them. Wolfram in the bath wearing a white towel around his waist. Wolfram extending a hand to Trouble and folding her into his arms—kissing her with unashamed intimacy as only a prince would. And the deep ache in his soul… because it wasn't him.

"Yeah…I did…"

* * *

Positioned against what used to be the boundary of the old rose garden, Greta's new white marble fountain, which was square and reminded Wolfram too much of a much smaller version of the one in Shinou's temple, splashed merrily with a petit, cascading spray in the center. It was Lady Cheri's gift to go along with the six pear trees that Wolfram had planted with his daughter as an apology to her for being gone.

"Greta's orchard" they decided to call it.

Now that the work was all done, Greta and the master gardener had gone off to discuss expanding the little cluster of fruit trees next year into a much larger orchard and, maybe, they could add a flagstone path leading to it from the castle. It was a suggestion of Wolfram's that the princess embraced with an impish squeal of delight. Little did she know that the detailed images in Wolfram's mind had come from a sassy fox spirit who had once occupied it.

Wolfram sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped his fingers into the cool water. He made ripples back and forth while he watched the sunlight dance on the surface.

The blond wondered, briefly, if Yuuri was going to come back. Wolfram told himself that it didn't matter that Yuuri was probably off cheating—kissing some girl or being entirely too friendly, in a clueless way, with a handsome guy—or worse. He told himself that it didn't matter, didn't hurt, because The Maou would return with the double black. The Maou gave his word that there would always be "an us." The blond sighed "he promised" and told himself that the pain wasn't so bad. He could handle it. And he would keep telling himself that, over and over, until he was numb and his own words came true.

There was an odd splash in the water and Wolfram groaned inwardly—head falling backwards, eyes shut. He hated the idea of the new fountain making some strange sound or being broken when they'd just got the stupid thing to work. _Maybe, I can figure out what it is…_ Dark green eyes peered into the water. Then, he yanked his hand out, as though something had bitten him. Little droplets flew through the air.

_What the…?_

A dark image swam up to him, getting larger and wider.

Yuuri burst out of the fountain—which was barely large enough to hold him. In his arms, he had plastic bags sealed tightly with clear packing tape to keep the water out.

"Wolfram…?" He wiped his dripping face with his palm and peered around—trying to figure out exactly where he was. "Outside" was his first bet.

The blond could read his face and easily understand his confusion. "This is the new orchard I had planted for Greta. The fountain's from mother." He offered a hand to Yuuri, who gladly accepted it. He grinned widely, the callused hand in his, for a moment before releasing it and jostling the bags.

"I don't know how I got here…with you…but…"

"I don't know, either…" Wolfram shrugged a little at that and said, "Need any help with those…?" He remembered Greta asking for Pocky and he assumed that Yuuri had fetched other items as well.

"No, I'm good."

With an embarrassingly large number of dripping plastic bags in his arms, he smiled down at them a little. "I think I'll put these up, take a hot bath, and go see Gwendal."

_Gwendal…_ The blond, feeling awkward at that prospect, shrugged an agreement. He knew that Yuuri wouldn't forget the talk he'd planned to have with his brother even though that was a vague hope that had played out in the back of his mind. "I still want to be there…when you speak with Gwendal."

Yuuri juggled the bags briefly and then made strides for the castle. "Come on, Wolfram… You act as though I'm planning your doom or something." It was a cheerful tone that didn't work at all on the blond. He followed behind, stiff and unfeeling

"You have the power to do that, actually," the blond said under his breath.

"Wolfram?" He stopped and turned to look at the young man following him. "You know, it's hard to speak to you when you're three steps behind me." Onyx eyes, holding some sort of secret in them, smiled at him. "Three steps… What are you? A wife or something?"

Dark green eyes glared with tiny sparks. It felt as though Yuuri had just teased him. The face hardened. Shoulders pushed back. "According to protocol…which I'm sure you've reviewed more than once in your lessons…I have to walk behind at a distance. And, may I remind you that _I'm a man_, not a woman. I'll never be anybody's _wife_." Wolfram tugged at the sleeves of his uniform to straighten them which gave a crisper appearance. Keeping his tone even right now was really taxing, too. But, social decorum dictated it. "Besides, being here makes protecting you… easier… from behind." It was a lie. They both knew it the moment he said it. Wolfram had walked at Yuuri's elbow countless times, while complaining in a distracted way about anything that crossed his mind, and was still at the top of his game—sword drawn—when danger occurred.

Undaunted, he winked at Wolfram and then continued walking. "_R-i-g-h-t_…" he said as an amused sigh. "Personally, I think you like to stare at my behind," Yuuri mumbled under his breath with a dark humor.

"What?!" Wolfram practically shouted. He couldn't believe what he just heard. That was nothing like the Yuuri he knew. "That has got to be…._to be_....!" Embarrassed, he squinchedhis eyes shut to block out the double black's rounded, peachy butt from his vision. "…T-The most…!"

In the distance, Greta and several gardeners stopped and stared.

Yuuri turned again and smirked a little. "Excuse me, Lord von Bielefeld? You were shouting about something and…I missed the meaning?"

That one took Wolfram's breath away. He stared. Jaw dropped. Never did Yuuri speak to him like that or call him 'Lord von Bielefeld' so formally. His chest tightened. He pursed his lips and turned away to his right to avoid eye contact with Yuuri. The blond felt off balance and unsure of himself. _What's going on? I don't…understand this…_

"I want to talk to Gwendal first," Yuuri said, dropping his slightly teasing manner for a sincere one. "And, then, I want to be with you tomorrow. Just us."

The blond tilted his head to one side and gave Yuuri a look from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure?"

Yuuri's face grew calm and contemplative. "Gwendal needs to understand what I have in mind. And I won't be backing down on it. I think, at this point, he'll pitch a fit, though." Then, a smirk returned. "If you feel a shockwave coming from his office, you'll know that he's talking to me."

"I still want to know what it is," Wolfram said flatly.

"You will. I promise."

"Promises…" The blond said vaguely, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glanced at Yuuri again. "I don't know if I believe in those anymore."

The double black readjusted the packages in his hands again, turned in the direction of the castle, and said without looking behind, "You will, Wolfram. You will…"

* * *

Author's note: Final chapter coming up next!

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

--FINAL CHAPTER—

"Love does not die easily. It is a living thing.

It thrives in the face of all of life's hazards, save one -- neglect."

-James D. Dryden

Chapter 23

He slammed his doubled up fist on the desk. Everything shook. "_WHAT…?!_ What was that?" Gwendal could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing by the second. He was starting to breathe hard, too.

"I'm…sorry. I know that wasn't what you were expecting to hear."

_From you? Hell, yes!_ The look was incredulous. "_Heika_…!" A snarl followed the word and Yuuri's first instinct was to cower back. But, he knew that everything he just said was true, and it was what he really meant deep down inside. _So, there's nothing to be afraid of_, he thought.

He glanced at the administrator—now blood red in the face with whitish crease marks from stress around the eyes, grimaced mouth, and forehead. The whole body was tense, ready to pounce if need be.

_Well, okay… I can lie to myself right about now. This is scary!_

"_LISTEN… TO… WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!"_ Gwendal barked. The glass in the windows rattled. "There's no way I'm going to allow…!" He stood up from his chair. The legs scraped violently against the wooden floor, making an unbearable sound—not unlike nails on a blackboard.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" Onyx eyes looked up at him. "For everything… I really am."

Gwendal circled around the desk, stomping each step as he did so. "'I'm sorry?' you say? _SORRY?_ Well, here's a bit of information for you that doesn't have to be carried by messenger pigeon… '_I'm sorry_' isn't enough! And your ridiculous plan—ridiculous socially, politically, morally—won't work!"

"Morally?" Yuuri said, frowning. "What could be wrong with this? And, if it was fine before…?"

"Yes, morally!" Gwendal seethed with his arms crossed against his chest. "Consider everything you've put Wolfram through. You've taken for granted the one person who is truly devoted to you." He approached the double black slowly. "In many ways, you've been a spoiled king. You've never had to deal with lingering doubts and suspicions regarding the people under you. And, even though you insist upon trusting people, I know what the real world is like. I know first hand what it feels like to discover disloyalty among the ranks. You've never had to live with the infighting and back biting that comes from courtly life, either. Wolfram, Conrad, Günter, and I have tried to shield you from that cold reality. Maybe…we shouldn't have, but we did."

"I know you've all done so much for me," Yuuri agreed. It was true, and he couldn't deny it. "But this is what we want, and we're going through with it. I just thought I'd let you know ahead of time…out of courtesy."

Indigo blue eyes narrowed at the double black. The clueless wonder was still not getting the message. "Wolfram is no longer your problem, _Heika_." He practically hissed the last word.

"He's not a problem," Yuuri said quietly. "I was the problem." He tilted his chin up at Gwendal and hoped his wobbly dark eyes would win him over. That tactic had worked in the past, but not now. He'd try again, then. "Another reason why I'm here…What I've wanted to say to you for a long time…is…_Gomen_." He bowed as deeply as he could.

Gwendal shook "no" with a dangerous looking frown. He went back to the desk, yanked open a small drawer aggressively, and retrieved a single sheet of folded paper. He waved it in Yuuri's direction. "This says that your engagement has been called off. You agreed to it! Signed it! And that leaves him under my command as a soldier. And, even if he's 'of age' he's still my little brother and I'm the head of the family."

_Head…of the family?_ Yuuri couldn't fight back the smile that had twitched its way onto his face. He just kept having images of a certain blond beauty crushing a scowling Gwendal against her chest. "Is that because Lady Cheri is off on another free love cruise right now?"

Gwendal gritted his teeth and another wrinkle popped up. But it was more than frustration. There was an itch in his heart, one he couldn't scratch away.

"So," he went on, getting back to business, "you won't accept my apology?" Yuuri asked cautiously when the silence between them grew uncomfortable.

"You're the king," Gwendal complained as he shoved the paper back into his desk, "and anyone accepting—or not accepting—your apology is not something you need to worry about." _On the other hand, me fantasizing about kicking your ass is permitted. _He replayed the image in his head a few times with satisfaction.

"Well, I'm sorry that you disagree…but, as you say, I am king… So, we will continue with our plans…whether we have your consent or not."

A breeze picked up in the room. Gwendal thought briefly about closing the window as he rescued some documents from flying off his desk and onto the rug.

"We?" he said distractedly, taking the stack of papers in hand and straightening them up. "Are you trying to convince me that you've got Wolfram accepting this so easily? I don't believe it." His body straightened into a rigid line as he said, "You never saw the pain in his eyes like I did."

A pair of large hands slammed down hard on Gwendal's desk. The black clothed arms leaned in menacingly, and black slitted orbs promised one thousand and one tortures into the administrator's eyes if he made a wrong move.

"The 'we' in question happens to be yours truly," The Maou seethed darkly, matching Gwendal's mood. Blue spirals of energy wrapped around him with the faint imprint of dragons within. "And you will comply or you will face dire consequences—brother of my beloved or not."

Automatically, Gwendal stepped back. His right foot collided with the chair leg. It almost made him stumble and fall, but he caught himself somewhat awkwardly, ponytail smacking the side of his face.

The Demon King quirked a devious grin at that, gripped Gwendal's shoulder, and forced the man to lean forward for a quiet word. "And what you fail to comprehend is this… Wolfram belongs _to us_—Yuuri and me—mind, soul…and body. And, I promise you, in time, we will claim all three."

* * *

Logan and two fellow soldiers eyed Yuuri suspiciously as he opened the door to the Victorian-styled greenhouse for Wolfram to enter. He understood why he got the looks and smiled down at his shoes sadly. He deserved it, after all, because of everything that Wolfram had gone through. And, he knew that some part of him would always regret that—sneaking away like a coward; not breaking things off with Wolfram the honorable way before seeing those girls back on Earth. But, now, looking back on it, he was sorry that he'd ever been with them. Yuuri knew that he'd messed things up between himself and Wolfram and, socially as well as politically, tarnished the blond's reputation in this world forever.

The double black glanced over—just in time to see Wolfram giving him a strange expression that was a mixture of distrust and confusion. Nevertheless, the blue clad soldier walked in with his head held high.

Once they were inside, Yuuri gestured to a pair of high backed chairs positioned with a grouping of pink, almost blushing, roses behind them. It was unusual to see furniture like that in the greenhouse. So, the ex-prince assumed that Yuuri had asked for the furniture for a specific purpose. Just what, he didn't know.

Wolfram gave a curt nod and took the chair to the right. He crossed his legs casually, followed by his arms. The aura was defensive now and the blond head was tilted curiously to one side. Something was definitely up and he wasn't exactly sure what it was. But he could feel his heartbeat picking up and the strange, tense expression on Yuuri's face made him feel worse, if that was at all possible. Wolfram glanced around. No one was in the greenhouse with them. They were alone.

There had to be a reason for that.

"I'm glad you could come," Yuuri said, taking the seat beside Wolfram and placing the cardboard box on his lap. Wolfram noted that it was white, made of stiff paper, and tied up with string.

"Is there something that is…needed?" the blond asked cautiously. Yuuri's box was a mystery, but he didn't want it to turn into a distraction. At the moment, he had too many questions for Yuuri—first and foremost, his chat with Gwendal that ended a few minutes ago. "If there is something," he went on, "I am at your disposal…"

Yuuri noticed that over the last twenty-four hours Wolfram's sentences toward him tended to be formal and avoided the use of his name and/or the word "heika."

"Well…yeah… Kind of…"

Onyx eyes focused on the box instead of the harsh green eyes that drilled into him.

Yuuri swallowed hard and began. "Things have…changed…and I really feel that we need to understand that… Have a meeting of the minds, I guess…" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "…No, it's not like that… What I'm trying to say…" The double black looked at Wolfram with some frustration. "This was all so easy when I practiced with the bathroom mirror." He chuckled nervously.

Wolfram didn't understand and began to rack his memories for anything that had changed or was out of Yuuri's schedule today.

"…A new start…fresh beginning is what's needed…because I can't do this anymore…and the distance… between us…"

_We're no longer engaged and he doesn't need me… I'm being sent away… That's it!_ Wolfram's jaw dropped and his disbelieving stare intensified.

Yuuri, seeing Wolfram's reaction, found himself far more nervous than before. "…I just hope you understand that…and accept it…me…umm…because…"

_This is…goodbye. He's sending me somewhere or I'm being reassigned again. I'm alone._ Wolfram nodded and told himself that he was not going to be tearful. They'd ended the engagement before their adventure together. And waking up in Yuuri's arms, feeling his embrace, kissing him those times-- They were just things that happened in the heat of the moment with no permanence. He even said so himself. It was wrong for him to believe otherwise—if only for a second—or to hope for some alternate outcome.

Clinging to Yuuri was useless.

"I'm sorry," Yuuri sighed and pulled the string on the box. "This isn't the way I'd practiced it in my head."

"There's no need…" Wolfram said in a tone he hoped was neutral.

Yuuri shrugged a bit and opened the box. Inside were four small strawberry tarts—plump, red, and sweet. He remembered how much Wolfram loved strawberries and even the scent alone could get his mouth watering. The double black glanced at Wolfram and saw the hungry look mixed in with other emotions that he couldn't identify.

Yuuri nodded at the box. He took one of the tarts and offered it to Wolfram. "Please," he said quietly. Yuuri was a bit surprised when Wolfram didn't take it right away. He wanted it, clearly, but held back. "Please take it," Yuuri said again, much more quietly this time.

His face fell a little. "Fine." Wolfram's tone was a resignation, not a fiery or bratty complaint. Their fingers brushed against each other briefly, which made Wolfram's heart beat just a bit harder. He cursed himself silently and positioned the tart against his lips. He took a hesitant bite. The scent was intoxicating, but Wolfram found himself far from hungry now that he realized being this close to Yuuri was getting to him. Still, politeness dictated that he eat it. After all, it was offered, by hand, from a king.

"You don't like it, do you," Yuuri said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Actually," Wolfram answered honestly, "it's quite good." There was a sweetness that he enjoyed and a tartness that seemed addictive. The blond tried to brighten up. He needed to do more than mope and mourn for something that he told himself wasn't real. Their engagement was just an idea in his head that he couldn't let go of because it had become important—a part of his soul. Wolfram bound his feelings up again in a tight coil, telling himself that he could take it. He was a man. He was not going shatter inside. After all, he'd done it enough times and he always woke up the next morning glad that he hadn't made an ass of himself the previous day by acting out the way he really wanted to. Being Yuuri's shadow for over three years had been enough embarrassment. _Don't add to it now. _He took a slow, calming breath. _Let go and accept this final moment…_

Wolfram took a larger bite and enjoyed a fat strawberry. In spite of himself, he closed his eyes and gave an appreciative, albeit small, hum.

Yuuri smiled.

The double black ruffled his raven locks. "I think the problem between us was that it started out wrong…and we kept on going, knowing that everything was messed up and complicated…because it was just too easy to let it stay that way."

The blond chewed the rest of his bite slowly and swallowed. If that was how Yuuri saw it, there was nothing he could have done differently to rectify the situation. And no amount of nagging about "fiancés" and "marriages" would have demonstrated his attachment to the double black in any clearer light. '_Wrong'…you and me…? No wonder we came to this point, huh?_ He forced a bite of graham cracker crust down his throat. "I see…"

Onyx eyes turned, and he leaned against Wolfram's shoulder in a friendly way.

"So," he said with a slight smile, "hello. My name is Shibuya Yuuri. I'm from Earth. It's nice to meet you."

Wolfram almost choked on his tart. "Eh?"

"What's your name?"

Wolfram blinked at that. Did Yuuri, his ex-fiancé and The King of Shin Makoku, just ask him what his name was?

"S-sorry…?" Wolfram stammered, sending a cloud of graham cracker-spray from his mouth. He placed the back of his hand to his lips to keep more crumbs from flying out.

Yuuri laughed, vastly amused, and Wolfram colored with embarrassment.

"Your name is…?" he pressed.

Wolfram "humphed," popped the last of his tart into his mouth unceremoniously, and chewed to buy time_. I guess I'll have to play along with the games of a king. _He answered the way his tutors had trained him to all those years ago. "My name is Wolfram von Bielefeld and I am the third son of Cecilie von Spitzberg. It is my _extreme pleasure_," he said grimly,_ "_to meet your acquaintance." He felt foolish reintroducing himself to Yuuri. But, what else could he do if this was really "goodbye?" His eyes narrowed at nothing in particular. It was easier that way.

"So, Wolfram… Can I call you '_Wolf'_?"

A beautiful, well-formed mouth turned down at that.

"Oh…okay… '_Wolfram'_ it is…" Then Yuuri picked up another tart and handed it to Wolfram. "So, tell me about yourself."

While accepting the tart, he gave an incredulous look.

"Okay… I'll go first, then…" Yuuri picked up a tart and took a small bite. "Yum! …This is good…" He chewed a bit and said, "I'm king here. Not that I ever wanted to be or dreamed that I'd be one. But, I just sort of 'fell into' the job." He snickered slightly at his own joke. But his Japanese nature worried that it would come across as bragging, so he added softly, "It's not an easy life, but I do my best."

"I know you do, Yuuri," Wolfram said with a bitter edge and took another bite roughly. He swallowed without tasting it.

The double black ignored the tone. "Oh, yes… And I have a daughter named 'Greta.'"

Yuuri gave a friendly nudge to Wolfram who understood the game only too well now. "What a coincidence," the blond said in a tone that clearly conveyed the notion that there was no coincidence at all. "I have a daughter. Her name is Greta, too." Wolfram took a slow breath and continued with "And she's everything to me."

Yuuri took another bite. "Well, that's something we have in common."

"I suppose…we do."

Yuuri studied the handsome profile next to him. "Maybe, we could all get together for a father-daughter breakfast or something?"

Wolfram nodded with a bit more enthusiasm. "She'd really like that."

The double black noticed that Wolfram had finished his second tart. He took the last one out of the box and placed the empty box on the floor. Through the glass, he saw the three soldiers from Wolfram's guard loitering outside—pretending to talk, to kill time. But, in reality, they were watching them. Yuuri nodded. Others cared for Wolfram, too. It was a strange sort of comfort. But, he was determined to go on with what he wanted—audience or not.

He turned slightly in the chair and bumped knees with Wolfram, who gladly pulled away. Yuuri nodded at that, too. It was logical.

The double black offered the last tart. Wolfram raised a hand and shook his head "no." "It's yours," the blond said. Ignoring it, Yuuri broke the tart in half while trying to offer it again—strawberries and pinkish goo began cascading down the middle. "Ummm… Wolfram?" his voice nervous, "I think I need help…here!"

"Oh, why would you do such a foolish thing to a gooey dessert…?" Wolfram admonished, taking the piece and trying to scoop some of the lethargically oozing syrup onto it. Yuuri, doing the same, with not much better results, laughed out loud.

"That was fun, you know," the double black said, shoving his piece into his mouth—much to the dismay of the blond.

Cheeks full. Munching followed.

"Ugh!" The blond made a frightful face that sent Yuuri into fits of graham-cracker-in-the-teeth chuckles. A small vein pulsed on an angelic forehead. "If you eat too fast, you'll get sick," he fussed.

Now, it was Yuuri's turn to "humph"—even if it was half-hearted. "And, you'd care about that…huh, Wolfram?" Yuuri said, calming his voice—but the mirth remained.

"Of course!" Wolfram muttered in a bratty tone, eating a large bite, and trying to tell himself that he had no other choice under the circumstances. With a few more impatient bites, he was finished but his slender fingers were pinkish and sticky.

"I'm glad," Yuuri said, leaning into Wolfram's face. Then, his onyx eyes narrowed. "You know, I think you have some strawberry syrup on your face. Let me see…"

Yuuri was close. In fact, a little too close.

_Is he going to…kiss me?__ Should I let him?_ Wolfram's eyes blinked at that and changed into a brilliant emerald shade. He wanted to pull away. But, there was something akin to black slits in the eyes before him that reminded him of The Maou. _It can't be...! … Because Yuuri is…obviously…Yuuri right now._

Wolfram couldn't move. Couldn't think. Time stood still.

The double black had placed his thumb to his own mouth and licked it. Then, resting his palm against Wolfram's cheek, he stroked the corner of the pinkish mouth.

_Wait! __His eyes! Finally!_ It was the most wondrous sight he'd ever seen.

"Wolfram," came the voice laced with excitement, "your eyes just turned into emeralds!" The thumb softly rubbed the stain away with swift but gentle strokes. "I love that… I really…do."

Wolfram's heart was beating hard. His eyes had changed back to normal, and he was certain that it was Yuuri who did it!

Yuuri closed his eyes with relief, wrapped his arms around Wolfram's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. "You're back… It's all right again. It happened! It really did!"

The blond blinked at that. Not being able to breathe.

Then, just as quickly, Yuuri released his hold. But, instead of pulling back, lips came nearer and the face tilted for access. A hand was on his shoulder, urging him forward.

Wolfram braced himself for it. He could feel Yuuri's sugared breath on his face.

Suddenly, Yuuri backed off. He turned away and pressed sticky fingers to his lips—one at a time—instead. But, in a flash, his dark eyes were watching the blond out of the corner of his eye.

Wolfram's face fell. "Stupid," he hissed to himself. He'd done it again—hoped for something that was never going to happen. He'd misunderstood Yuuri again, somehow, and thought that he was going to get some sort of sign of affection because his eyes had changed color. His expression was "What an idiot I am. I allowed myself to hope" and his body visibly withdrew into the chair.

"I can't kiss you, Wolfram," Yuuri said softly.

"I know," the blond answered miserably. He knew this routine so well. He dug his nails into his palms to keep from crying.

Yuuri placed one sticky hand on top of Wolfram's and laced their fingers together stiffly with sugar gluing them in place. "I don't kiss on the first date."

"First…_date_?" He gave an incredulous stare.

"That's what this is," Yuuri said with a confidence that he truly wasn't feeling "and I wanted to tell Gwendal ahead of time that I'm officially courting you." He could feel the stare intensify. "So…that's why we're with each other right now. Here. Like this. I was afraid…afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't come…or you'd think it was a trick or something like that." From the look on Wolfram's face, Yuuri could see that he'd guessed right (with a little help from Murata, of course). "So, that's why I can't kiss you right now…even if it's what I want…more than anything." He stroked Wolfram's bottom lip with a strawberry-stained thumb.

Wolfram's green eyes spoke the word "Why?" To him, in fact, the whole situation was one big _"Why?"_

"Well, Wolfram, think of Greta. Do you want her to kiss her 'prince' on the first date?"

"Date?!" Wolfram practically shouted, his voice booming in the greenhouse painfully. Outside, the three members of Wolfram's guard stood at the ready. Maybe, their toothsome commanding officer would need them after all.

An angry steam began to rise from Wolfram's body. "Our Greta's not going to kiss on the first date! And I'm not too happy about her doing it on the second date, either!" The blond angel's face was pruned up and his desperate grip on Yuuri's hand tightened.

Yuuri nodded seriously to that, too. "Fine, I won't kiss you on the second date, either."

"Eh?" Wolfram said, off balance again.

"Well, I wanted you to have coffee with me tomorrow before you go to your budget meeting with Gwendal. But, I can respect your 'no kissing' rule about the second date, too."

"Umm…uh…" The blond stammered, not being able to put two thoughts together again. Somehow, there was a "no kissing Yuuri" situation going on and he'd, ironically, done it to himself.

"Come on, Wolfram… If Greta can't kiss on the second date, we can't either." He leaned in against Wolfram—shoulder to shoulder and whispered, "What kind of parents would we be if we didn't act like good role models for our children."

"C-Children…?" Wolfram managed to choke out.

"Someday," Yuuri said with a bit of a blush, "if…that is…you decide you want to stay with me." His hand squeezed Wolfram's. "While we're courting, you might decide that I'm not the person for you after all. I'm not what you need."

The double black withdrew his hand. Now, both sticky palms were in his lap.

"And just why would I do that…?" The blond raised a suspicious eyebrow that practically spoke the word "cheater."

It felt good—normal—to see that look again. To be with him again like this_. _"Because," Yuuri said as he wrapped, oh so awkwardly, one arm around the blond's shoulders "you don't really trust me right now" and then leaned in with "and I don't exactly blame you."

A tan cheek rested against a pale one.

The arm withdrew.

"_Trust" was always hard for me. It wasn't just because of you…or because of this…_the blond thought.

Yuuri sat there in his chair, twiddling his thumbs nervously. He looked uncertain and terribly vulnerable at the moment_. I'm failing at this… From his view point, I've done too much. There's no way he'll forgive._

_I can't stand this__. To see him in pain... I'm the stronger of the two of us_, the blond thought, feeling ill at ease. Wolfram took Yuuri's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace, arms locked tightly. Now, it was his turn. He whispered, "I'll tell you a secret."

"Oh?" Yuuri replied with dark eyes glassy with unshed tears and a chuckle that sounded anything but happy. He was never good at masking his feelings.

The blond closed his eyes as he confessed. "Why you brought me here… I thought you were sending me away because you didn't want me…again. I thought… this was 'goodbye,' actually." His voice cracked. He couldn't help it. Tears came.

At that, Yuuri rested his raven head against Wolfram's strong shoulder. "It's 'hello'—if you want it to be."

"I want it."

* * *

Author's note: Epilogue coming soon…

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

Epilogue

.

"Cheater!" Greta shouted, running after the black haired Mazoku who had just darted into the rose garden. Had he been human, Raven's younger cousin would have appeared to have been no older than fifteen. Instead, he was much, much older and was a perfect scaled down copy of his somewhat grim-faced relative.

As with the family traditions, Connor was an expert strategist, too, and sensed a short cut through some hedge roses was in order.

He zoomed past a table where Raven and Anissina were enjoying their morning tea. Seeing the black blur streak past, Raven half stood and was about to say something when his companion touched his arm and smirked with a shake of the head "no."

Connor kept going, almost smacking into Yozak who was having a private word with Conrad. Almost instantly, his ears picked up the sound of feet and the spy easily stepped aside, but then stomped down on a boot-clad foot, lost his balance, and found himself playing Twister on the ground with his brown haired companion on top. Conrad, of course, had no complaints.

The young, black haired Mazoku ran a few more steps before he stopped and rested his hands on his thighs, breathing hard. "Which way should I go now?" Connor gasped. He really didn't know the castle grounds all that well and his terrified eyes caught the distant form of Greta.

A tap on the shoulder.

Gwendal, who had been walking back to the castle while browsing through a few new documents, made a sharp nod to the left with a muttered "Get used to it, kid."

Arms pumping, Connor ran on with relief. There were flowering pear trees up ahead. He'd follow the flagstone path to freedom.

Greta stopped and folded her arms, breathing hard as she sent a death glare to Gwendal for interfering. She was barely a teen now and her creamy chocolate curls had blond highlights up front. She also wore peach lip gloss and a little mascara—much to Yuuri's annoyance and Wolfram's silent approval.

Greta frowned to herself. That Connor was such a jerk—saying such nice things to her at dinner and then, just a minute ago, flirting with the whole kitchen staff. _ALL OF THEM! What was he thinking?_

A black uniform appeared at her shoulder. "A problem, Greta?"

She looked to her left and noticed Murata Ken. "Oh," Greta said and almost instantly lost her anger. "No…it's nothing," she lied and brushed the broken bits of stems and leaves from her royal blue dress.

"I thought I heard the word 'cheater.' But, I could be mistaken," the sage said teasingly. "But, now that I think about it, it has been awhile since I heard von Bielefeld utter the word."

Greta grinned knowingly. For the past eleven months, her fathers' "relationship" was the worst kept secret in the castle. At first, the official story was that they were 'courting'—which annoyed Gwendal to no end because he didn't want his little brother's heart broken again. But, after Yozak had caught Yuuri sneaking out of Wolfram's bedroom at 2 AM, the news was quickly whispered to Conrad—who did his best to let the relationship blossom. Others, including the staff and castle guards, got wise when Yuuri "disappeared" from the king's chambers each night and the gossip began to spread once again.

"So, you were chasing…Connor… I believe?" Murata teased. He nudged his glasses up higher on his face with a knuckle.

"I let him go." Greta glanced at the direction where the young Mazoku had run off.

"Then, I take it that he wasn't worth it?" Another smile grew on his face.

With the intent of a challenge, Greta whipped her head and glared up into Murata's ebony eyes. Her chocolate eyes changed from one of annoyance to something else—as though she couldn't decide right now but that it was okay.

"Something?" Murata teased.

Her face tilted low—staring at the ground because it was easier for some reason, and she could feel her cheeks burn a little. "He wasn't worth it. That's all," she said.

"Don't worry, princess. You'll find someone else. You won't die an old maid, I'm sure," the sage said with a wide grin coming to him. He folded his arms with a "I know more than you do" expression on his face. "Ah…young love…" He joked.

"Wait! You think this is funny, don't you?" Greta's face twisted into an adorable anger-pout that would have done Wolfram proud. Then, she pushed her shoulders back. "When I find someone…the right one for me…he won't run away like a coward. And no stupid men… Just like Anissina says. They'll have to be smart to keep up with me." She gave a curt nod to that statement to show determination. "And, speaking of Anissina, I'd better go. She's teaching me about circuits today in the lab."

Murata chuckled to himself as he watched Greta storm off in a huff. It was so cute.

"Ahem!" came the voice from the hedge behind him. Murata turned to see that Shinou had shrunk himself down to a miniature form and had made himself quite comfortable on top of the hedge. He sat cross-legged and stared at the sage with arms folded against his chest. He was little, fire-eyed, and ticked off for some reason that the sage couldn't begin to guess about.

"And what's your problem?" Murata asked, taking the bench closest to the shrub. He had to tilt his face up a bit to look at Shinou.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Oh, that?" He glanced at the shrinking image of Greta. "I was just teasing her a little about love." He gave a shrug. "It's fun to do that now."

"Hm?" was Shinou's response, mouth still turned down. "Love? Well, I wouldn't tease her about that…marriage, either, come to think of it." He eyed the sage through and through.

Murata folded his hands behind his head casually and decided to ignore the chibi king spirit. He was just in one of his moods. That was all. Murata was certain that in the next minute, The Original King would be hitting on him—again—which was embarrassing in that diminutive form.

"Oh, don't tell me that you know who Greta's going to marry when she grows up." Disbelieving, the sage rolled his eyes. "I doubt you'd go into that kind of detail with everybody. From what I recall, you only bothered to learn about the major players in this world." Then, he smiled and turned his chin up to look at the terrace connected to the king's chambers. Murata had a petty good idea of the two figures lying contentedly in the over-sized bed with the curtains drawn and the door locked. He snickered to himself.

"Well, you'll be mine for a few more years anyway," Shinou grumbled under his breath at Murata but glowered at the distant image of Greta as she turned the corner. He turned back. "Regardless, your soul still belongs by my side."

Murata narrowed his eyebrows and turned his attention to the blond. "What did you say to me? Sorry…wasn't listening…" He almost never did with Shinou these days—except when the moon was full. He had a choice now. He could "play" with Shinou on Shinou's terms (which could be very satisfying when he was in the mood) or he could travel a bit and visit Tra'va (which also had its pleasures and annoyed the hell out of Shinou--which was also a pleasure).

Murata, The Great Sage of Shin Makoku, gave a "cat has a bowl of cream" smirk to Shinou. And The Original King simply raised a slightly amused eyebrow to that. Yes, he knew Murata's future in this life. After all, he was a "major player."

* * *

"Yuuri?" Wolfram called over his shoulder, slightly distracted. "_Y-u-u-r-i…_"

With a simple gesture, the blond shooed off the stable boy who had saddled up his horse and was still standing there, picking his nose with his little finger. The kid probably did a good job. However, the blond never trusted his saddle to anyone. The stable boy probably didn't know that. So, now, he'd have to satisfy himself by doing a thorough inspection of the work himself. Wolfram leaned over and tested one of the buckles. He ran a critical eye over everything else, looking for something out of place. Satisfied, Wolfram turned from his white steed to see if Yuuri was ready, too. He placed a hand on his hip. For some reason, the double black was eager to go riding. And doing so at this time of day was unusual. This was the "Conrad and Yuuri go jogging" time of day while "Wolfram trains soldiers and pretends not to fantasize about Yuuri's ass" time.

Wolfram tried to focus on the task at hand, looking for Yuuri—not his amusing memories of his first few weeks with the double black. From the very beginning, the blond knew that Yuuri had been careless. And, as a result, people had caught on to them doing more than just officially "courting"—being alone in his room at night, to be more specific. And, once Yuuri got over his embarrassment, (which involved a lot of Wolfram explicatives that also included such famous lines as "Don't I look desirable?" and "Are you afraid that people will think you're no longer a virgin?") the two of them actually laughed at their little secret. They weren't having sex.

Sadly, incidents kept cropping up that only added fuel to the "gossip fire." One time, Wolfram had opened a bottle of wine that Yozak had given him only to have ditzy Yuuri spill some of it in the middle of the bed while they were trying to pour their goblets full. The stain was set in the white sheets forever and, the next day, the blushing maids quickly balled up the sheets and put on fresh ones. Another time, Yuuri had a muscle cramp in his leg while in the bath. He was trying to massage it out when Wolfram offered to help. Well, in Yuuri's opinion, he wasn't given the chance to give a "yes" or "no" to that—which put him in a slightly cranky mood. Yuuri's moans and protests of "Ouch!" and "That's a little too hard, Wolf!" could be heard outside the door and into the hallway. Even the guards blushed at that. During their morning jogs, Conrad dropped vague hints and prodded a bit about the two of them "courting" and "maybe something more than that…?" Yes, sleeping together. But, Yuuri remained cheerful and tight lipped giving the "What are you talking about, Conrad?" lines and puppy dog eyes when he'd had enough and wanted to drop the conversation. Of course, minutes after that, Yuuri would always find his favorite blond, would pull him into an alcove and whisper about what just happened. Boyish snickers echoed at that.

Not long afterwards, everyone became used to the "nightly visits" and subtle glances over dinner. It was fine. And, with the pressure off, Yuuri was comfortable enough to take his relationship with Wolfram to the next level. The Maou followed the night after. And Wolfram had the best of both worlds: two passionate lovers.

Two months ago, Lady Cheri held a party for the nobles and their families. Yuuri had just negotiated a treaty that brought humans and Mazoku a step closer in international trade alliances. So, to celebrate, she held a "modest affair" that lasted until 3 AM. Wolfram, entering with his brothers, got a mixture of looks from the nobles and their families—everything from "loser" and "slut" to "The Maou's plaything." The blond didn't care even though his brothers did. Gwendal frowned at anyone who didn't meet his approval, and even Conrad gave a narrow look at one of the guests while, at the same time, giving the blond's shoulder a gentle pat. Wolfram thought briefly that Tra'va would have loved that small touch of affection. At the drinks table, he picked up a glass of wine and made a silent toast to her.

Yuuri entered last with Greta on his arm. And, after thanking as politely as he could the swarms of beautiful, single butterflies who circled around him—wanting his attention and the social climbing that went with it, Yuuri excused himself and waded through the crowd—barely giving anyone or anything notice. He saw what he was looking for and his eyes were locked. He approached Wolfram, still sipping his drink.

"Wolf…" He extended his hand—mimicking the exact way Wolfram had done with Trouble—and said the words "dance with me…please?"

The expression on Wolfram's face was something Yuuri would carry with him for the rest of his life. It was perfect: surprised emeralds, chin dropped, face dusted pink, blond hair tied at the back of the neck with a black ribbon suddenly coming undone and falling softly against his shoulders in a rush of sunshine gold.

They danced all night long.

Wolfram looked around again and sighed. _Typical…_ The white steed was ready and pranced a little. "Yuuri?" Wolfram called again, much louder this time. He felt huffy and impatient. Where was his wimp? After all, it was Yuuri who wanted to go on this ride together in the first place.

"Wolfram…I…uh…"

Blond eyebrows pushed together. He turned at that with a slightly confused pout. The voice seemed wrong somehow. It was Yuuri, surely enough, but—off. "You're getting a cold, aren't you?" Wolfram frowned with slight worry and turned to examine the double black carefully.

He took a sharp breath. "What… _happened_ to you?" Wolfram said, his voice breaking instantly. He rushed to Yuuri's side and placed his hands on the handsome face.

The double black's eyes had black slits. The face was wider and more angular than the youthful Yuuri that Wolfram knew. The hair had grown long and almost touched broader shoulders than what was the norm.

"Yuuri," Wolfram worried, "what happened? It looks like you tried to transform into The Maou and you got stuck in between…somehow…" Emerald green eyes shined with tears. He could feel himself starting to panic, not knowing what to do. Then, his soldier's training kicked in. Panic was no good to anybody. The time to act was now.

Wolfram grabbed Yuuri roughly by the wrist and pulled him forward toward the white steed. It felt strange because Yuuri was bigger now and his stride was different. The double black was also holding an oversized bag carefully wrapped up in tape. "Drop the bag, Yuuri. We're going to the temple where Murata and Shinou are. Hopefully, they will be able to figure out what happened to you, and Ulrike will chant a spell or something."

It was an order, not a request.

Yuuri chuckled under his breath. "It's coming along, Wolfram. Like it or not."

_Damn it, you wimp!_ Wolfram grimaced, his heart beating hard. "Just get on the horse, Yuuri."

With a nod to his love, Yuuri got on the horse and Wolfram jumped on behind him. He took the reins in one hand and wrapped the other around the double black's waist—pulling them together. "Tell me if you feel dizzy. I'll stop." Then, he kicked his white steed, which took off at a quick trot and an indignant shake of the head. This must be an emergency, the battle horse decided, because his rider was never like this.

Half way there, Wolfram could feel his heart thundering in his chest. This had to be reversed. Wolfram glanced at the man before him. What if being stuck like this killed Yuuri? Wolfram cringed at the thought and rested his cheek against the shoulder in front of him. He'd followed Yuuri all over the castle for years. And, if need be, the blond decided, he'd follow Yuuri into death—whenever that came. But, he found himself bitterly angry at Tra'va who had suggested that he would die first. The idea was a comfort to the blond—knowing that he'd protect Yuuri all his life and that he would never live a day without Yuuri in it. And, in the past 11 months, his world revolved around Yuuri and The Maou—giving himself entirely without regrets.

_Just when I'm finally happy…content… Maybe, by __feeling secure, I tempted the fates…_ He chewed his lip at that thought.

Fingers dug into a black uniform around the waist. Wolfram's hand was shaking uncontrollably and he could feel everything that he'd held dear slowly slipping away from him.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri said, turning to look at the blond behind him. "It's not just concern anymore. You're scared, aren't you?"

Wolfram frowned deeply and blinked back tears. "Shut up." He raised his chin a little and saw the temple coming nearer.

"I think I should tell you something," Yuuri said, his voice, deeper than his usual and higher than The Maou's. It made Wolfram hold his breath. The blond gritted his teeth.

"Stop, Wolfram," he commanded.

The horse continued to trot.

"I said '_stop'_."

Reluctantly, Wolfram did it but his eyes burned impatiently at the building in the distance. They had to get there. They just had to.

The horse, sensing Wolfram's emotions, danced in anticipation. Wolfram tugged back, frustrated. Yuuri had told him to stop. He had to have a good reason.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri turned slightly and put a hand on the blond's arm. "Listen to me…okay?"

"Okay." It sounded like a terrified child and Yuuri shook his head at that.

"I'm fine, Wolfram. Really…"

Wolfram nodded shakily. "Of course, you are…" He was lying. Now, he really hated himself. This was not what their relationship was about.

Yuuri turned a bit more in the saddle and placed an arm around Wolfram's shoulders, tugging him against him. "Seriously…"

"Sure," Wolfram said, his voice muffled a bit by the material. He wanted to cry so badly. Everything was out of control.

Yuuri smiled darkly at that. "It's because…The Maou and I decided that we wanted to become…one person. And I wanted you to be the first to see…"

"What?" Wolfram pulled away and looked at Yuuri again. "Why would you…both…?"

A hand went into Wolfram's blond locks, untied the black ribbon at the nape of the neck, and let the ribbon fall to the ground. Fingers threaded themselves into the wavy strands. "Inamorato, we both wanted to be with you. We didn't want to share anymore."

"You're fine…?" Wolfram whispered, "…really? Both of you?" Wolfram placed his hands against the sharply angled face and gazed.

The double black grinned. "Yeah, and you can still call us 'Yuuri,' if that's okay."

"Okay…_Yuuri_…" Wolfram said cautiously, doubled up his fist and punched his lover, The Demon King, in the arm as hard as he could. "YOU TOTAL ASS! I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!" Wolfram closed his eyes tightly and tears streamed down. "And…I…was about to _lose you_…" He hiccoughed in between words. "My life…over…without you and The Maou…" Pale hands became fists again. Yuuri was punched, much harder this time, but with his eyes closed he didn't know where the fist connected. "…Nothing…the same…ever again!" Sobbing in an unmanly way ripped into his pride, but it was all Yuuri and The Maou's fault anyway. So, he went with the feeling because he couldn't stop.

"Idiots! Both of you! I can't believe it!" He jumped from the horse and stormed off, back for Blood Pledge Castle. Yes, walking was stupid at this point, but he didn't care. He was that pissed.

A band of blue energy grabbed him around the waist, both cool to the skin and strong. And, before Wolfram knew it, he was picked up bridal style in black clothed arms and was being toted back to the horse.

"Beloved," Yuuri said, forcing the blond against him. "Forgive us…" There was a brief, angry struggle. But, soon enough, Wolfram found himself rubbing his tear-stained face against the dark clothed chest. "Back on your horse," Yuuri said, giving Wolfram a fleeting, velvet kiss on the lips.

Wolfram was seated first and Yuuri close behind him this time. "Please, don't leave me," Yuuri said quietly against his cheek. "But, after all we've been through together, maybe that's an unfair thing to ask," Yuuri reflected while Wolfram rubbed his eyes roughly against the back of his own hand.

The blond held his breath to keep from sobbing anymore.

"I think I should have done this part first," the double black murmured to himself, fishing around the breast pocket of his black jacket. "Here," Yuuri said, his palm opened and two rings appeared.

Wolfram stared at the rings curiously—not comprehending the meaning, only that the rings looked identical and that they were a gift from Yuuri. But giving twin rings to one person seemed somewhat strange. Wolfram blinked owlishly. Should he wear one on each hand?

Yuuri chuckled a little. "The silver looking metal is called 'platinum' and it's kind of rare on Earth. It took me awhile to save up the money for these." When the meaning still didn't dawn on his lover, the double black explained, "They're wedding rings, Wolfram." He took the ring engraved with the name "Yuuri" in Japanese. He placed it in the palm of his beloved's hand. "Marry me…?" he asked quietly. "And wear this ring to show that we belong to each other."

Immediately, Wolfram's hand curled into a fist. But this fist held something very precious inside. He held it to his heart. "I can't believe this."

"Is that a…yes?" Yuuri asked, grinning widely.

The blond gave an enthusiastic nod of the head with a face turning rosy pink. Words just wouldn't come to him. _Yuuri asked! He asked! He means it!_

Yuuri smiled and handed over the other ring. "Hold onto this one for me, too, until we get there?"

"Yes!" He took the ring engraved with the name "Wolfram." Then, just as quickly, the large bag was thrust into Wolfram's chest and the moment of magic was ruined. He scowled at it. "And just what is this…?" _Damn it, Yuuri! I'm not your maid or something…hold your own luggage!_

"Wedding clothes."

"This is…what?" Yuuri couldn't have just said what he thought he did. No way.

"You heard me."

Yuuri, with reins in one hand, nudged the steed forward and they resumed their ride to Shinou's Temple.

"C-Clothes?" the ex-prince choked out. "Wait! Are you saying that…?"

"We're eloping right now… Yes…" Yuuri pretended to be distracted but he was clearly enjoying himself. Eyes with black slits danced.

"But…But, Yuuri…!" Wolfram said, jaw hanging. "We can't just run off and get married! There's tons of wedding preparations, engagement parties, and then we've got the nobles to invite. They've never missed a royal wedding in centuries. It's a huge insult to not invite them! My family…and yours… And, then, the people will want to see our wedding, too."

Yuuri chuckled at that. "No, what the people want is to watch a royal wedding so that they can have a three day holiday to celebrate the event."

"Well…" Wolfram nodded a bit to that. It was true. Nobody loves a party more than a Mazoku. And most royal weddings were excuses to get drunk and eat a lot. He tucked some of his long blond hair behind his right ear. "I suppose, you're right about that point."

A hand snaked around Wolfram's waist and pulled the lithe body closer to him. A voice in his ear. "Marry me, Wolfram. Make an honest man out of me." Teeth nibbled on the curve of his ear. Wolfram shivered a little at that. He could feel his resolve slipping with the hand on his waist meandering up, toying with the material on his uniform and threatening to work the buttons loose. "Make legal what we've been doing for months…" Small, warm puffs of air tickled Wolfram's neck before lips pressed against it. Teeth sunk in very slowly and Wolfram's breath hitched. The blond head tilted back.

Yuuri knew a "yes" was coming soon.

"Come on, Wolfram," he pleaded. "Don't make me go back to the castle and do all of that paperwork. I'd rather have a honeymoon." He snuggled the blond, hand sliding down this time.

Wolfram chuckled a little and leaned back against Yuuri. "Actually, as Prince Consort, I can handle half of your paperwork each day."

He blinked. "Eh?"

Wolfram turned to look up at his love with sincere emerald eyes. "It's true." He gave a small shrug with it. "I can handle the domestic paperwork…like giving permission to buy twelve barrels of wine for the kitchens and the distribution of the staff salaries and bonuses each year." He tucked a blond strand of hair behind his ear again when the wind blew. "Thanks to working with Gwendal, I've got a lot of experience with paperwork and I've got a good understanding of budgetary requirements and the cost of inflation. So, I could handle the domestic issues around the castle and you can handle the foreign policy issues."

Yuuri could barely contain himself. "You're kidding!"

"No…entirely truthful… In fact, it's been done many times over the centuries with royal spouses." Wolfram gave a polite smile.

"Then, that settles it! We're definitely getting married today!" Yuuri spurred the steed in the sides to make it run at a gallop—which got a glare from the white horse that said "Oi! Only my master can do that! You're damn lucky he's right here."

The blond quirked a grin. "Now, you're making it sound like you're only marrying me to get out of paperwork."

A dark head nuzzled into Wolfram's neck. "Never," came the whisper.

It made Wolfram chuckle anyway.

As the walls of Shinou's Temple came into full view, Wolfram looked down at the over sized bag again. "Wedding clothes, huh?" he said happily. Yuuri really thought of everything. It was wonderful. Perfect, even.

"Yes, they are my parents' clothes." He smiled at the thought.

"Huh?"

"Wedding clothes…kimonos—one black, which was my father's. And one white."

Green eyes widened with the sudden realization. "Oi! Then, that means that I'm wearing your mother's…_wedding dress_!"

"Kimono. It's the only traditional Japanese clothing that she owns. I think, years ago, her mother insisted."

"K-Kimono? A white one? But… _I'm a guy_!"

"I know! I've seen you naked."

The horse trotted up to the heavy, wooden doors and the shrine maidens working outside got a sudden ear-full of "I know you've seen me naked, Yuuri, but it's still your mother's clothes!"

The horse came to a stop and Yuuri looked at Wolfram seriously. He placed a hand on his beloved's shoulder. "If you don't want to go through with this, I'm fine with it. I just…wanted you all to myself…no fuss, no muss… We've always done better when we were alone…just the two of us. And, I promise, we'll have a grand reception for the kingdom later on." Then, it struck him as he heard himself say the words out loud. Maybe, he was too presumptuous. Too bold on this issue. After all, he was king and Wolfram might be feeling pressured to agree. "Then again, it might be better to forget about it. If I can have you by my side, I don't really care how it happens."

Emeralds narrowed at the words. Wolfram huffed at Yuuri and got down from the horse, a man on a mission. "Of course, we're getting married right now," he ordered, holding the wedding clothes against himself protectively, as though Yuuri would take them and the rings back. He looked up at Yuuri on the white horse and continued with, "I'll marry you…just as soon…as I can figure out how to tie one of these kimonos on." He scratched his head a little at the thought. Maybe, Murata knew how.

"Trust me, Wolfram," Yuuri said happily while he jumped down from the horse, "you're going to like it so much more…" he approached his favorite blond and whispered the rest in his ear, "…when I _untie you _after the ceremony."

"Yuuri?" Wolfram leaned into his fiancé and gave him a coy glance that was the epitome of "bishonen." Chin tilted up. Golden hair glistened in the sun. A background filled with yellow flowers.

Yuuri was taken aback but still managed, somehow, to mutter a "Wha-?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

.

---THE END---

* * *


End file.
